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slashbitch2 · 10 months

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blood, betrayal and granola bars PT2

part one Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader W.C: 7.9k Words

The following day you both walked with a renewed energy, snacking on berries that Natalie scavenged and sharing out painkillers from the first aid kit. With the forest sloping downwards, some of the pressure was eased from your aching feet, while the thick snow that invaded your boots thinned out. Still, several times you slipped on the icy surface. Several times Nat laughed at you.

Eventually you reached a river running through the valley, which was flowing beyond its banks, having only recently thawed from the freeze. The water was deeper than usual and moving too fast to swim through. It was the first real obstacle you had encountered on the journey, and yet while Natalie only saw it as something to overcome, you saw opportunity…

“There is no way that’s going to work.” The redhead called down to you. She was sat further away, watching amusedly as you approached the bank. “And if you fall in, I’m not going to save you.”

You grasped securely onto the stick you had found and sharpened with a piece of flint. A rudimentary tool, but one you were proud of assembling. “So, you’ll save me from a bomb but not a river?"

“Not when that river is a series of freezing cold rapids.”

Upstream there was a rock jutting out, impeding the water around it. You decided to head towards it. “Haven’t you ever been to a theme park? The river rapid rides are always the best!” You called back to her.

“Actually, no.”

Momentarily distracted from the task at hand, you turned back to Nat, mouth agape. “You’ve been in America long enough to develop an accent, but not to go to a theme park?”

She shook her head. “In case you haven’t noticed, I live a rather busy life.”

“What? Does SHIELD not give you paid holiday?” Throughout the duration of your time together, you hadn’t really acknowledged each other’s opposing profession, let alone bring it up in conversation.

But it didn’t seem to deter Nat. “And HYDRA does?”

“Actually…” Reluctantly, you tore your gaze away from her, raising the sharpened stick above your head. “Paid days off and health insurance. It’s not a bad deal.”

“In return for what? Committing countless assassinations, orchestrating the great conflicts of the world…”

“That’s not all that different from SHIELD.”

She huffed and paused for a second before speaking. “Maybe not. But as you said, at least SHIELD wasn’t founded on Nazi ideology.”

“Please, HYDRA came from SHIELD. It’s been there from the start- Besides, it’s not like we idealise that side of history.”

“Anymore.”

You glanced back at Natalie and saw the gleam in her eyes. You took a breath, shaking off the mild irritation that had risen within you during the debate, and focused back on your hunt.

A flash of silver swam by, disturbing the riverbed around it. The water clouded for a few seconds as you scanned the space for another glimpse of the fish, then threw the makeshift spear. Nothing. You could already picture Nat saying, “I told you so.”

You bent down to retrieve the spear before it was carried away by the current, the edge of your clothes getting soaked in the process. You shivered, clenching your jaw and trying to ignore the chill that suffused across your entire body.

Another splash of water, you threw the spear again. This time, instead of dirt from the riverbed clouding the water, red liquid did. You pulled the wooden stick out from the river, seeing a fish lodged on the sharp end of it.

“Told you so.” You said smugly,

Natalie was already looking at you, a mix of surprise and impressed. An inexplicable heat rose to your cheeks. Beyond just feeling proud of yourself, you found you enjoyed the way she gazed at you. If you were to ignore the circumstances, the continuous pain inflicting some part of your body and the general state of exhaustion, you couldn’t help but admit that you were enjoying your time with her.

Part of you longed to voice this thought. But instead, you opted to say, “I think it’s your turn to light a fire.”

Unfortunately, your clothes didn’t dry off until the end of the day. You had found a shallower section of the river to cross, yet that didn’t stop the bottom half of you to remain soaking wet. Although being at a lower altitude meant the snow had all but melted away, it did nothing to lessen the cold breeze which ate away at your energy, nor stop snow from lightly falling all around you.

The flakes were just beginning to settle on the ground as the sun started to set. By this point, you were ready to collapse quite literally anywhere when Nat pointed off into the distance.

“There!” She exclaimed. As much as you tried to focus in on where she was pointing, all you saw was a mound of rock sticking out of the forest floor. “Cave.”

Stifling a laugh at her inarticulate explanation, you squinted off into the distance yet were unable to see anything. “I know the last couple days have been tiring, but I still expected you to have more eloquence than a caveman…”

She rolled her eyes at you then began marching over.

You trailed after her, mockingly saying, “Cave- ug. Go.”

But for all you mocked her, there was a section of carved out rock, providing the perfect shelter as the sunset clouded over with the promise of more snow. After a quick once over to confirm no other creatures resided inside, you began to set up for the night. On this occasion, you had a fire lit in no time, both huddling round it and sharing out the food you had gathered throughout the day.

The wind howled outside, whistling through the cave entrance. You couldn’t decide whether it was an eerily beautiful, or unsettling sound. The one thing you were certain of, however, was how thankful you were to have come across shelter. Endless light flurries of snow were being carried by gusts of winds, and you knew that despite their weightless appearance, the impact would sting against your skin like knives.

Shaking off that particular idea, you turned back to the fire, eyes scanning over the orange glow which illuminated every crack and crevice of the rock walls. Your gaze then fell to Natalie, who seemed lost in thought. You took the opportunity to trace over the defined lines of her profile, the strands of red hair that had come loose around her face and the mesmerising green of her eyes.

Despite having been surrounded by greenery the last couple days, you were able to admire the depth of their colour anew, as though you had never seen green meadows or fern forests before. And you were certain that should you never see any natural greenery again, the colour of her irises would be sufficient to replace it.

Suddenly, Nat was looking back at you. She licked her lips. Your eyes traced the subtle movement. Usually, holding her attention made you tense, but not in this case. Not when she was looking at you so openly, so hesitant yet curious. She stared at you as though you were a comforting presence amongst all of this. As though she were savouring something inevitable that was growing between you. Something you didn’t dare to name.

You tore your gaze back to the fire and cleared your throat, your mind racing for something to say.

“I’d kill for literally anything other than berries.” You complained, ending the silence between you.

In comparison to the fish that you had caught and cooked earlier, which was anything but gourmet, the berries tasted like flavourless mush.

“Sure, I’ll just get out Uber-Eats and we’ll see what’s available.” Natalie said sarcastically, pulling her knees to her chest.

You noticed she was shivering and couldn’t help but soften at the sight.

“Do you want my jacket?”

Natalie glanced at the sand-coloured jacket you were currently wearing. It had already acquired several stains, which wasn’t a surprise seeing as you hadn’t taken it off once. Except for now, when you slowly slipped it off your shoulders, down your arms and held it out to her.

“What’s the catch?” She asked, suspiciously eyeing up the kind gesture.

You smirked. She already knew you too well.

“Your real name.” You replied simply.

Nat considered the trade for a second, then grabbed the jacket from you and pulled it on. She sat silent for a beat but kept her promise. “It’s Natasha.”

“Natasha?” You repeated. “Wow. Real creative secret alias. I never would’ve guessed.” You couldn’t help but laugh at her, the difference between her real and fake name being so minimal that it hardly mattered.

“Shut up.” Natasha leant back, a grin playing across her lips.

“What about your surname then? You persuaded, eager to use your generous moral high ground to find out as much about the enigmatic SHIELD agent as possible.

“Oh no, now that wasn’t part of the deal.” She raised an eyebrow cockily, though you could tell her words were sincere.

“Why? Is it topic secret knowledge?” You teased. “If you tell me then you’ll have to kill me?”

“Something like that.”

“Well now I’m only more curious.” As much as you wanted to know, something in her resigned posture and pleading expression persuaded you not to push the subject any further. “But save that piece of information for another day. I need some kind of motivation to keep going.”

You stood up, turning your back to Natasha and the fire to retrieve the first aid kit from your backpack. At multiple intervals during the day, you made sure to change the makeshift bandages and plasters covering your body in some attempt at keeping everything hygienic.

“Let me do that.” Natasha offered upon seeing what you were doing.

You looked over at her, surprised to find you weren’t suspicious in the slightest of her intentions. Despite the fact that you ought to be enemies, entirely distrustful of one another, you trusted Natasha with every bone in your body. Over the last couple days, a mix of necessity and basic empathy had sparked an unexpected alliance between the two of you.

No, not alliance. Friendship. Respect. Enjoyment of each other’s company. And you were certain Nat felt it too, and so allowed her to gently take the first aid kit from your hands.

You smiled at her gratefully, aware that your eyes likely conveyed a lot more than just that and sat back down in front of the fire. She crouched down behind you, hands lightly roaming over your combat suit and assessing where the darker stains of blood were. You flinched at the contact, then relaxed into her open palm.

“It’s just the cut on my upper back and the one along my forehead I’ve been treating.” You explained.

“Are you sure? There’s a rather nasty one down here as well.” She poked a finger into your side to prove a point, causing you to jerk away from the sudden sharp pain.

You hissed through your teeth as the pain subsided. “Yep. Gotta ration supplies.” Then tugged down the top of your suit to draw her attention back to the main injury.

“Alright, hold still.” She set to work unwrapping the bandage you had crudely looped round your shoulder and arm. “This part might sting a bit.” She warned, preparing the antiseptic.

You grimaced, assuming she was going to be much more thorough with the treatment than you had been.” Just get it over with.”

Natasha began delicately cleaning the cut, putting more consideration into the work then you had expected.

“You’ve clearly done this before.” You commented as she started rewrapping the bandage in record time.

“And you haven’t?” She stood up to check, or rather admire, how much better the gauze was looking, then moved to sit in front of you and begin work on the gash along your forehead.

“Fair point.” You conceded, averting your gaze anywhere except Natasha. “But still, I’m glad it’s you out here with me.”

You risked a glance back to Nat. She was close. Closer than you had ever been to her before. If you shifted forwards even just an inch, your lips would brush. You could close the gap so easily. You could bring her impossibly closer. You could-

“Is that gratitude I’m hearing?” She smirked. Her voice was low and raspy, her gaze darting all over your face. Beyond the smirk, a newfound hope was etched into her expression, which only softened further as your eyes met, lessening the distance between you even more.

“Maybe.”

Natasha’s smirk only grew as her head titled down slightly. For a second, you thought she might lean in, that she might kiss you… Until her attention turned back to the first aid kit, abruptly ending the building tension between the two of you.

She returned to tending to your injuries, this time the gash along your forehead. “It’s a miracle this didn’t come with a concussion.” She muttered, stroking a finger along the bruised and bleeding skin.

Your lips drew back in a weary smile. You hadn’t thought back on the whole ordeal much- or truly appreciate how lucky you were to even be alive. You had Natasha to thank for that, not that you would ever be able to recognise her efforts. Once these couple days together were over, once you returned back to civilisation and back under HYDRAs radar, the safest thing to do would be to forget any of this ever happened. To forget Natasha, for her own safety.

Your heart sunk at the idea.

“You know, I think I’m entitled to some information about you.” Natasha stated suddenly.

“How come? I thought we had a deal. The jacket for your real name.”

“Yes, and now I’m fixing this mess of your attempt at first aid. I think you owe me.”

You tutted in lieu of shaking your head, trying to stay as still as you could. “I was going to offer rebandaging your shoulder in return.”

“I don’t accept.”

“No?”

“No.” She sat back on her heels. “Tell me something about yourself instead.”

You exhaled, racking your brain for an interesting enough fact about yourself that didn’t compromise your identity. “You’ll have to be more specific… There’s just too many interesting things about me to share in one night.” You joked.

“Too interesting or too top secret?”

“Both.”

“Fine.” Natasha thought for a moment, pursing her lips- which you admittedly were rather fixated on. “Tell me about your childhood.”

Now that was something you were happy to regale her with, and began happily recounting your early life in as much detail as you could remember. Natasha listened with rapt attention, even as she finished her first aid and packed everything up, even as you tended to her shoulder in return, her focus never left you. She laughed at all the right moments, offered comfort at the more difficult points and asked only the right questions.

And then, in the dying embers of the fire, Nat told you about her childhood. The Red Room, her temporary family, her tenure as a Black Widow assassin.

“Your surname.” You were laid down facing her in the fading light of the fire when it clicked. “You’re Natasha Romanov. SHIELD’s infamous Black widow. An Avenger.”

The identity of SHIELD’s most prolific assassin had only come to light recently with HYDRA unveiling their grand plan. As your organisation stepped into the limelight, so had Natasha, subsequently becoming a top priority for elimination. One of your superiors had told you that as long as she lived, so did the public’s support for SHIELD since she represented a link between the beloved Avengers and the secret service that she served.

Across from you, Natasha nodded; the movement almost imperceptible. Her pupils darted uncharacteristically nervously across your face trying to gauge how you would react. “Does that bother you?”

Of course it didn’t. Out here in the middle of nowhere, none of it mattered.

“No.”

She frowned. “Well, it should.”

“Well, it doesn’t.” You snapped, though not unkindly.

Natasha’s past didn’t matter to you. All that mattered was your time together, in which you had grown fond of her. The real her. Not some made up identity or emotionless figure, but her. You were trained well enough to recognise a liar, which she most certainly was not. Nobody would be able to keep up appearances in the circumstances you were under, let alone remain so authentic yet likeable. You had come to accept the unavoidable fact that she was your only motivation, your only solace through this harsh reality.

Even now, in this freezing cold cave in the middle of the Russian wilderness, you were at peace because of her. You shivered, unsure whether it was due to the cold, or the intense feelings you had repressed for so long.

“You’re cold.” Natasha commented, ever observant. She sat up. You realised it was to take off the jacket.

“No, don’t.” You swallowed, summoning up as much bravery as you had left. “Just- come here.” You patted the rock-hard ground next to you, and waited, watched as Natasha sized up the offer.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding when she shuffled over to you. Then found yourself at a loss of breath again when she lay down next to you. There was a moment of stillness, of darkness as the final light from the fire dwindled away. And then an arm stretched round your waist, hand resting at the base of your spine.

Instinctively, you scooted closer, turned so her front was against your back, and settled in the embrace instantly feeling warmer.

The two of you intertwined so perfectly, so comfortably. It felt so natural that you wondered how you had ever slept without her by your side before. Now that was a thought you really couldn’t entertain.

“For body heat.” You explained unnecessarily to the silence, more to convince yourself rather than ease any non-existent awkwardness about the situation.

Natasha hummed in agreement. The vibration sending a pleasant warmth through your own body. It was in this soft embrace that you fully relaxed, comforted by the gentle rise and fall of her chest, lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sound of her breathing, the warm breath fanning across the back of your neck.

It was perfect.

Natasha was the first one to wake up and carefully untangle herself from you. It wasn’t until sunlight started to filter into the cave that you awoke, bringing an end to the privacy of your own little world within the rocky walls. You panicked momentarily upon realising Nat was nowhere to be found, but upon reaching the entrance to the cave, she reappeared with a rejuvenated expression on her face.

“There’s smoke rising in the distance, just beyond that hill.” She pointed to the rather steep incline you had been dreading to face, from which sunlight was only just peaking over the summit. “I think we might be near a settlement.”

Her suggestion filled you with renewed hope, though you were hesitant to show it, too preoccupied by the question of what would happen once you reached civilisation. Despite everything, would Nat turn you over to SHIELD? Would she reveal what she had discovered about your identity? That would almost certainly get you into trouble. Perhaps even put your life at risk.

Or would you go your separate ways pretending to have never met? No- you were certain that was impossible.

“Alright then.” You gazed out at the horizon and preparing yourself for whatever awaited you. “Let’s get moving then.

To your relief, and dismay as much as you tried to deny it, Natasha was right. As you crested the hill, a small village sprawled out on the flats below. It consisted of about fifty houses, one factory with two soot covered chimneys, a handful of fields with some ill looking cows and one road leading in and out. Hardly a luxurious welcome back to civilisation, but what else were you expecting.

Natasha’s pace quickened as you drew nearer, something you really shouldn’t take personally, yet did. Any reasonable person would be relieved that your journey was coming to an end, would be counting themselves lucky to have survived and covered so much distance without any issues. In fact, you yourself were rather looking forward to a change of clothes, a comfortable bed and food that wasn’t foraged or hunted.

It was hypocritical of you to think, but jealousy and insecurity took Natasha’s eagerness as a sign that she was well and truly sick of you. Ready to leave you behind for good.

As you drew near to the outskirts, walking in between the old wooden houses scattered untidily about, a dog came running out to bark at your arrival. It leapt and bounded around you, signifying to all nearby that someone was arriving. You and Natasha walked side by side in silence, feeling the weight of several pairs of eyes tracking your movement. An old man sat on the porch of his house grudgingly and brazenly stared you down, a clear sign that the town didn’t usually see many visitors.

The whole atmosphere was uncomfortable.

“I’m assuming you speak Russian fluently.” You muttered to Nat, clenching your jaw and squaring back your shoulders.

“да.” Was her response, which she then translated as meaning “yes.”

“I gathered that.” You passed yet another resident who looked ready to spit on you, finding the town didn’t become more accommodating the further in you travelled. “Have at it then.” You gestured round the area which appeared to be the main street, although the name hardly did it justice.

There was no formal road or signs naming it, rather a more defined set of tire tracks that marked it as the most frequented street. One of the buildings had a sign labelling it as a grocery store, though was the smallest on the street. You could hardly imagine it would provide much beyond the basics- yet the main problem remained that you had no money on you, nor form of identification or anything.

Nonetheless, it was where Natasha went, and where you wordlessly followed her to.

As predicted, the shop didn’t have much produce to choose from. You browsed aimlessly as Nat spoke to the woman behind the counter, who was the first person not to glower at you. Although you understood some basic Russian, you left the two to talk, occasionally picking up on words you could just about decipher meaning from.

Nat returned to inform you that the woman- Anya- had a room above the shop that she was renting out, and that the town had an ATM located by the factory. Nat had already devised a plan that you would allow Anya to show you round while she went to retrieve cash. You truly had no idea how Nat planned to do so without a credit card, but decided it was best not to question her methods.

“I’ll be back in half an hour at most.” Natasha must have seen the doubt on your face as she informed you before departing.

“Alright.” You swallowed back your hesitancy and nodded, feeling rather strange to be separating from Nat for the first time in days. The urge to reach out and hug her suddenly arose, though you were quick to quell it. You smiled reassuringly instead, watching as she darted out the door and back into the cold Russian air.

“This way, yes?” Anya announced in strong accented English, beckoning for you to follow.

Trying your best to put on a grateful expression, you nodded and accompanied her up a rickety set of stairs to the spare room. Anya did her best to present the property, though the language barrier made it difficult, coupled with the fact you were anxiously glancing out the window every other minute in hopes of catching sight of the redhead returning. Although the spare room was just as she had described. A room. Nothing more, nothing less. One bed, one armchair, one dresser and a view out to the ‘main street.’

The bathroom was downstairs, next to the shop storage room- tad unhygienic- and was hardly an improvement on the amenities over the last few days. Still, you listened attentively and smiled politely as Anya gave her tour. She seemed grateful that someone was finally interested, and you couldn’t help but feel bad about the fact you were only going to rent it for a few days. But with no hotel in town, there were no alternatives.

You and Natasha hadn’t spoken about how this was all going to play out, being too afraid to have hope. Now that it was actually here, you found yourself rather conflicted, unable to plan further ahead than the next five minutes.

Anya ended her tour in the storage room, where you spotted something which sent a thrum of excitement suffusing through your body. A phone. Simply hanging from the wall, available for use at any time. Such a mundane object, and yet it brought you into the present, back to reality with a sudden jolt of realisation. All it would take was typing in the eleven digits, lifting the microphone to your mouth and speaking. But who would you call?

A family member? They would certainly be glad to hear from you, but likely unable to help your current situation.

The Embassy? You would be able to leave Russia more anonymously that way, making HYDRA less likely to question your lacking presence following the destruction of your base.

Or HYDRA themselves? They were the most obvious answer. You were a high ranking official, and they would willingly send aid to your location. You could be back in no time, with little effort beyond corroborating some account of the event. But that would put Natasha in danger.

After all you had been through together, you wouldn’t put her through that.

You at least owed that to her, and crushed the idea as quickly as it had come. You would allow her to disappear first, or for you to go your separate ways before contacting HYDRA.

You heard the door of the shop open, your heart skipping a beat at the sound knowing who it was likely to be.

“Hey.” Natasha grinned at you, her hands clutching literally wads of cash.

“Welcome home, honey.” You joked, watching as Nat placed the money down on the counter. She started counting out the correct amount, Anya’s eyes lighting up as she collected the bills. From what you had picked up from their earlier conversation, she had paid her about a month’s rent. There was no need to give her so much since you wouldn't be staying long, but your chest warmed in recognition of Nat’s considerate nature regardless.

“There’s a tiny restaurant in the middle of town- if you could call it that. The place is basically a shed in some guy’s back garden.” Nat explained. “But I was thinking we could go for dinner.”

“Dinner?” You repeated, face flushing at the connotations.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “It’s a meal you have after lunch, in the evening before bed-“

“Very funny.” You interrupted with a roll of your eyes. “Yes, I would love to go to dinner with you, Miss Romanov.”

“Alright.” Nat smiled to herself, said something to Anya who nodded vehemently, then turned back to you. “But shower first?” She suggested, to which you gasped playfully.

“Not a fan of the Eau de forest?”

She scrunched up her face.

“Fine. I get the hint.”

Showering had never felt so good. Even if the water was cold, and the shower floor was somehow sticky, it was still blissful…

For some extra cash, Anya had provided you with clean clothes from her own wardrobe, which meant you were able to change out of your disgusting, blood soaked, dirt encrusted combat suit and into fresh, clean fabric, which felt amazing. Even if her fashion sense was very traditional, the dress length very conservative, and Natasha finding your appearance highly amusing, you were grateful, nonetheless.

However, to your annoyance, Nat somehow looked perfectly normal in the style. Daresay she made it look good. But you weren’t jealous, instead considering yourself lucky that you were able to admire her at all.

The next couple hours were spent simply doing nothing. After your shower you all but collapsed into the old armchair in the corner of the room, which was so plush and easy to sink into that you had fallen asleep within five minutes. You would’ve preferred to take the bed, but had decided to leave it in case Nat wanted to sleep.

You weren’t sure whether she did or not, as next thing you knew, she was gently shaking you awake. The room had succumbed to darkness, apart from the last vestiges of sunset casting a purple hue through the window. For a brief second, you had no clue as to where you were until your gaze fell upon Natasha.

She was leaning over you, eyes blinking sleepily as she waited for you to jolt back to life. Your initial confusion became inconsequential at the sight of her; so open and vulnerable, so close to you in the fading sunlight. You swelled with pride at earning her trust so easily. It had come so naturally to you, in a way that it never had with anyone else, and in return, you cared for her more than you dared to admit.

“What time is it?” You pushed yourself into a seating position, if only to pull yourself closer to Nat.

“Six-thirty.” She answered. “We both fell asleep.”

You yawned, stretched and reluctantly stood up, ignoring the click of your overworked joints.

“Do you still want to go to dinner?” Nat asked.

You shot her an incredulous look. “Of course. I never pass up the opportunity for some fine Russian cuisine.”

“All naturally sourced, I’m assured. If you’re lucky there might even be buckthorn on the menu.”

You groaned. “If I even think about eating those damn berries ever again, I’ll throw up.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes. On you.”

Nat chuckled, grabbed something on the end of the bed and chucked it over to you.

“This jacket, seriously?” You stared at the sand-coloured item, which was almost brown by this point.

“Returned to you as promised.” She shrugged playfully.

“I’m not sure I want it back anymore.” Regardless, you tugged the jacket over the ridiculously puffy sleeves of the dress Anya had leant you. “How do I look?”

Her gaze swept from head to toe. You couldn’t help but bask in the attention.

“Like you’re ready for a night out on the town.” She concluded, opening the door for you.

The two of you strolled leisurely through the deserted town, both ignoring how each other’s stomachs cried at the promise of proper food. Part of you wanted to run to the restaurant, part of you wanted to savour your remaining time with Nat, and part of you was sensible enough to realise you had no idea where the establishment actually was.

In fact, you would’ve walked right past it if Nat hadn’t directed you inside.

The building was quite literally a wooden shed attached to some guy’s house, promising anything but the finest. The interior was rustic at best, the walls made from spruce logs stacked unevenly, and illuminated by a single string of fairy lights stretched across the square room. There was only space for three tables, with two already having been pushed to the side, and the third sat conveniently next to a space heater.

“Wow. Business is booming. Are you sure we’ll be able to get a table?” You joked, trying to spot the owner of the establishment. It felt like you had walked into someone’s home rather than a public restaurant.

“Give it a chance. It’s charming.”

At her reasoning, you focused on Nat in lieu of judging the place too harshly. You found that anywhere would have been good enough so long as she was there with you. Whether it be an uncomfortable cave, in the elements weathering the cold together, or in a secluded town with no real recognisable restaurant, you were able to appreciate it. Purely because of Natasha Romanoff. The woman who ought to be your enemy, yet you had never brought yourself to hate.

As you sat down on the rickety wooden chair opposite, you saw in her soft expression that she was the same. Neither said it but you both felt it.

Less than a minute after taking a seat, a waiter did emerge. He was perhaps the youngest person you had seen in town so far and spoke no English, but was kind. After leaving you with a handwritten note that was supposed to act as the menu, Nat briefly translated everything he had said. That he ran the place by himself, acting as waiter, cleaner and chef, and that you were the first customers he had seen in weeks besides his parents.

“You’re right. This place is charming.”

“Oh, so you’ve changed your mind now you feel bad?”

“Is that so wrong?” You leant forward on your elbow, trying to peer at the menu which Natasha was hiding behind. “I’m supporting local businesses.”

“How can you be supporting when I’m the one with the cash.” She held the menu out to you. “The wine is imported so it’s all in English.”

You took the sheet of paper from her. “I’ve been meaning to ask; how did you use the ATM without a card?” You skimmed down to the readable section, eyes flittering across the albeit short list of drinks.

“That’s a secret I’m afraid.”

“Of course, it is.”

The waiter returned and promptly took your orders. Not understanding enough Russian to read the menu, you had allowed Natasha to pick something out on your behalf. You weren’t really sure why, considering that in the grand scheme of things she knew nothing about your likes and dislikes, but that hadn’t seemed important at the time.

“I would ask how you are,” you said, denting a silence that hadn’t exactly been awkward, “but I think I already know the answer.”

“Tired.” She answered with a lopsided grin. “But I’m kind of used to it now.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you up too long.”

Natasha didn’t say anything as the bottle of wine arrived in a chilled bucket, surprisingly well presented despite expectations. He poured out two glasses, bowed his head politely and left.

You rested your hand around the glass, studying the light golden colour of the liquid amplified by the warm lighting. In it, you saw sunrises over snowy hills, you saw dwindling firelight reflecting on cave walls, you saw the warmth of Natasha’s auburn hair.

A hand rested faintly atop of yours, fingers steadily seeking permission to intertwine with your own. Slowly, you untangled your grip around the stem of the glass, turned your hand over and felt her palm slide softly against yours. Neither you nor Natasha said anything, content to lose yourself in the humble contact.

After a minute, you glanced up at her, taken aback by the sad, far-away look on her face. You wondered whether it had dawned on her that your time together was running out, whether she was as distraught about that fact as you.

But no, that explanation didn’t suit her. A more fitting label would be regret.

“Hey.” You spoke softly as to draw her attention back in a gentle manner. “What exactly did you order for me?”

She didn’t glance up from your connected hands but smiled. “I thought it was meant to be a surprise.”

“Alright.” You conceded. “I trust you to pick out something good anyway.”

The palpable guilt on her face only worsened. A daunting sickness began to rise up through your chest, evoked by the chilling sensation that something here wasn’t quite right. Nonetheless, you were determined to enjoy yourself, and so persisted with the evening as though a tense suspicion wasn’t present in your mind at all times.

Natasha did eventually seem to snap out of whatever she was feeling, and conversation begun to flow easily between you both. You were able to talk about nothing and everything at the same time: only teasing, light-hearted conversation that you both held onto as if it were the most important thing you had heard in your entire life.

The waiter returned with your dishes about twenty minutes later. You still had no idea exactly what Nat had ordered for you, but it was delicious nonetheless, being the first real food that you had eaten in days. The meal filled a void you had become numb to in all you endured, a newfound energy returning to your body.

Placing down your knife and fork, you looked up at Natasha fondly, admiring her as though it were the last time. Her hair washed and recently dried fell down her shoulders in natural waves of red- almost the same shade as her lips, you noticed. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyes appeared darker than usual, though the corners of her mouth quirked up. The cuts and bruises across her face remained, but with less contrast against the pale of her skin, as any mark of that last few days together was gradually fading.

And as they faded, your emotions- your hurt- only grew. For you soon realised what she had done.

The sound of helicopter blades whirling through the crisp night air came into focus, grew closer and closer, louder and louder. You cocked your head to the side an inch to try and pinpoint from which direction they were approaching.

“Here comes the cavalry…” You murmured bitterly.

“Y/N.” Natasha reached out to firmly grab your hand, her grasp no longer tentative. “Don’t run.” She glared at you imploringly. Then added, quieter, “Please.”

You stared back at her, your jaw tightening as you willed any reaction to keep at bay. “Why?” Your eyes shone with betrayal. “Just for SHIELD to capture me? To interrogate and lock me up?”

“That won’t happen.” Despite the certainty of her words, her voice shook. “I won’t let them-“

“Then what?” You interrupted. “They let me go with my identity compromised? HYDRA would have me killed in a heartbeat.”

“Not under SHIELD surveillance. We can protect you.”

“And what kind of life would that be?”

“One with me.”

You paused, your mind going blank.

“It might not be perfect,” She continued. “But I don’t want to leave you just yet.”

You detected a hint of fear in her voice, recognising the toll it had taken on Nat to say what she truly felt. But as much as you felt the same, anger swirled around inside of you like fire, stoked by even the slightest of things. “I didn’t take you as such a selfish person.” You snapped.

You were wasting time, and shot up from your seat, throwing your napkin down onto the table. The building was likely to be imminently surrounded by SHIELD agents, you needed to escape before it was too late.

You surveyed the room, blinking away the tears already welling up. Going out the main entrance would lead you back into the centre of town to be easily trapped, whereas the door the waiter went in and out of would probably take you through his own house. You decided that was the better option, grabbing the jacket from where it was hung over the back of the chair and preparing to run.

Natasha abruptly stood up, tried taking a step towards you, shock and hurt reflected in her gaze.

You had truly upset her and immediately wanted to apologise, but instinctively took a step away from her. “I’m sorry I can’t-“ You tried, but found yourself at a loss for words. “It was nice knowing you, Natasha.” You forced out instead.

Nat opened her mouth to say something. Then closed it again.

So, you turned on your heels and ran. Her betrayal weighed heavily on your heart, but you refused to let it slow you down.

You burst through the backdoor, shoving past the waiter who was returning to collect your empty plates. He grunted at the impact, but you just carried on through the back garden and into his house, trailing snowy footprints along his carpet you. The helicopter above only grew louder, and out the windows you saw shadowy figures drawing nearer, surrounding the house. You had no weapons on you, and the long dress didn’t allow for much movement, but under no circumstances could you allow yourself to be captured.

You walked briskly through the living room and into the kitchen, stopping as you spotted a knife gleaming on the countertop. Deeming it sharp enough, you grabbed it, plunged it into the hemline of your dress and roughly dragged the blade along the fabric. You heard a terrible tearing sound and continued to frantically pull at the cut section until you had ripped all the way around.

The door you had entered through slammed open once more. “Y/N!” It was Natasha. Your heart sunk down into your stomach.

You would’ve preferred an armed SHIELD operative…

Without a second thought, you dashed out the side door, where nothing but an expanse of snow-covered fields awaited. A horrible sense of Deja-vu surfaced in your mind as you realised you were practically going to relive the last couple days of traversing the Russian wilderness, only this time alone and without any supplies or real weapon.

“FREEZE!” Like an answer to your unvoiced prayers, the first SHIELD agent arrived on the scene. He was young, fresh faced and inexperienced, but aiming a gun square at your chest.

You ducked, heard a bullet fire, then rammed straight into the man and slammed him into the ground. His gun flew out of his hand, skidding across the icy surface. You ungracefully launched yourself over the weapon, grabbed it and stood up.

Under the cover of darkness, you aimed it at the soldier, breathing heavily as he looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

“Go.” You spat, gestured for him to run and watched as he hauled himself up.

He glanced at you fearfully, then turned and sprinted back in the direction of town. You summarised this was most likely where the main group would be waiting to ambush, and instead looked out in the opposite direction for where to aim for. About half a mile away was a gathering of trees. With the helicopter still hovering somewhere above, you would need the covering of the forest to truly disappear.

“Y/N?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tried desperately to ignore the desire to turn and face her. You knew it would only slow you down, and perhaps that was what she intended to happen. You knew Natasha Romanov would be your downfall… And yet, you still spared a glance back.

Natasha was stood in the doorway of the house, the light from behind casting her shadow onto the sheet of snow. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but think how beautiful she looked like this; studying you so intensely, her face carrying such raw emotion that you could hardly stand to see her this way. Guilt. Loss. Shock. Hope. Screw your entitled sense of betrayal- you wanted to wipe the weight of what she had done from her conscience.

You threw down the gun, crossing the distance between the two of you in a span of three seconds. She stepped down to meet you, arms wrapping around your waist as your hands grasped hold of her face. You pulled her in, lips crashing together as she leant into you. Her lips were chapped but warm, fervently pressed against you as though the need for oxygen had entirely dissipated.

Natasha kissed you urgently, held onto you desperately, hopelessly. Yet in her embrace, everything else faded away to become inconsequential. Her arms tightened around your waist as your lips parted, a plea not to let go. You took in a shuddering breath, rested your forehead against hers and kept your eyes closed, content just to be with her.

For the first time since meeting Natasha Romanoff, you felt you fully understood her. This wasn’t some ploy to make you change your mind or distract you long enough for SHIELD to catch up, nor was it even a goodbye. This was her assurance that someday things would be different, that your story wasn’t over.

That someday you would meet again and finally get it right.

You opened your eyes, finding Natasha’s still to be closed. Reluctantly, you removed your hands from her face, kissing her cheek so that she would just look at you one last time.

And with that, you separated, keeping your gaze fixed on her for as long as possible.

Natasha swallowed her grief. “I’ll distract them.” She nodded, then smiled at you sadly. “Now run.”

Too grateful for words to convey, and too distraught to even try, you bent down to grab the gun before sprinting into the cold Russian night. Your lungs burned; your body ached with each step as you dashed for cover amongst the trees. Your heart was thudding in your chest- as though it wanted to escape and fly back to Natasha, to whom it now belonged.

You reached the forest, an inescapable sense of familiarity dousing you in cold disappointment. Thorny bushes scratched at your exposed legs, mud splashing up your calves. You skidded to a halt in a ditch, crouching down to catch your breath momentarily. You knew you would need to run further to truly disappear from SHIELD, but with the light dusting of snow leaving an easily trackable path, you would need to throw them off the trail first.

Hands patted down your form, looking for something to leave behind somewhere to mislead them. A loose thread of fabric from where you had torn the dress, a strand of your own hair, anything… Feeling something solid in the jacket pocket, you reached in, fingers brushing against plastic.

You frowned and pulled out the mystery object.

An unconscious smile stretched across your lips as the neon green wrapper of a granola bar fell into your open palm; left behind, half eaten by Nat. You turned the inane trinket over in your hand, feeling strangely nostalgic for not so long ago when something caught your eye.

Barely visible in the dim light was a note scribbled on the inside of the packet. The writing was smudged and almost illegible in the small blank space, but your trembling hands unfolded it with the upmost caution.

If you don’t hate me for what I did. Flat no.4, 34 Peterdy St, Budapest- NR

You exhaled deeply, leant back on your heels, and stared up at the night sky.

Natasha had known you would run, already having prepared a second chance: this one you wouldn’t miss. And you certainly didn’t hate her for it. In fact, the brief enigmatic note set your heart soaring, as in that moment, you knew your journey with Natasha Romanoff was only just beginning.

next >

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader

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antonsbf · 13 days

Text

Harmonies of Love (anton) pt.1

gender neutral x anton

content: fluff! university! musicmajoranton! schoolromance!

summary:In the trails of Korean university life, amidst the flow of lectures, friendships, and ambitions, fate orchestrates a encounter between you a foreign student navigating the maze of academic life, and Anton, a soulful music major whose melodies seem to dance in the air. As they traverse the corridors of learning, their worlds collide, igniting a spark that blossoms into harmonies of love.

As the sun streamed through your window, you blinked away the remnants of sleep, only to be greeted by the insistent buzz of your alarm clock. With a groan, you silenced it, the sound reverberating in the quiet room. Today marked your first day at Yonsei University in Korea, a dream realized through your hard work and dedication.

Excitement bubbled within you as you contemplated the journey ahead. "I can't believe I'm really here," you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips. Yet, amidst the thrill, a familiar feeling of doubt crept into your thoughts. "What if they don't accept me?" "Will I be able to find my place?" Pushing aside these uncertainties, you rose from your bed, feeling the chill of the wooden floor beneath your feet.

With a determined shake of your head, you dismissed the negative thoughts, focusing instead on the adventure awaiting you. Stretching, you welcomed the new day with renewed resolve, ready to embrace every opportunity that awaited you in this vibrant new chapter of your life.

As you walked into the dorm washroom, the morning light filtered through, casting a soft glow over the space. you caught sight of your roommate Shotaro standing in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at him.

"Good morning, y/n," he greeted, his voice carrying a hint of excitement for the day ahead. His golden hair was slightly tousled, evidence of just having woken up, but his eyes were bright with anticipation. Shotaro adjusted his shirt collar, smoothing out any wrinkles with ease, his reflection mimicking his movements perfectly. "Do you think this outfit is good y/n?", you could see a frown start to form in his face. "Absolutely, Shotaro! That outfit is so cute!" You saw how his eyes fill up with excitement, the compliment give him confidence he needed. "Thank you, y/n" he said smiling softly. " I will prepare us breakfast" Shotaro said, moving past you and heading to the small kitchen.

As you began your morning routine, the memory of Shotaro's words echoed in your mind like a comforting refrain. Shotaro, the Japanese exchange student, had quickly become a familiar face in your "new life". His warm smile and eagerness to connect had made him a natural beacon for friendship.

During orientation, he had excitedly recounted his encounter with a fellow foreigner, a boy from the States just like you. you remembered the way Shotaro had described their conversation, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Though you couldn't recall if the boy was from New York or New Jersey, Shotaro sentiment of sticking together as foreign students resonated deeply with you.

As you put the finishing touches on your outfit, smoothing out any lingering wrinkles and adjusting your hair, the clinking of plates against the table and Shotaro's gentle voice calling out snapped you back to reality.

"y/n, breakfast is ready. Come and eat while it's hot," he called out, his voice floated through the room, the tone infused with warmth.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror one last time, nodding in satisfaction before making your way to the table, a smile already forming on your lips.

"Wow it smells amazing in here" you said as you approached a chair in the table "Right!", exclaimed Shotaro excitedly. "I can't believe i was able to make this" said with a smuggled look. "Well, it looks great!", you said staring at the rolled omelette served with a small portion of steamed rice. "I hope you enjoy it!, it's a traditional meal in Japan, called Tamagoyaki" said Shotaro, you could feel the eagerness in his tone, as he took a sit next to you. "Wow.. really you said!" you exclaimed excitedly. "Next time is my turn to cook, okay?". Shotaro just smiled and shook his head in agreement.

As you and Shotaro finished the meal, the anticipation of the day ahead filled the air, as you stepped out of the dormitories, you were greeted by a gentle breeze. The university being a short walk away. You and Shotaro walked side by side, strolling along the path adorned with white and pink cherry blossom trees, their petals danced in the wind so dedicatedly, and you and Shotaro's laughter, which was caused by your conversation, intertwined with the gentle breeze, creating a melody of a flourishing friendship.

But as you nearred the bustling crowd of students, form on the path, a wave of nerves washed over you, causing your steps to falter. Sensing this sudden change in demeanor, Shotaro, ever perceptive, offered a reassuring smile and a comforting word, "We got each other! , so don't worry." ,his presence was calming. With Shotaro's support, you found the courage to face the day ahead, knowing that no matter the challenges that lay ahead, you had a friend by your side.

You and Shotaro resumed your steps, the weight of anticipation gradually lifted, replaced by a sense of reassurance washed over. Shotaro's voice, filled with gentle encouragement, broke the silence. "There is nothing to worry about," he said, his words laced with a comforting warmth. "We have almost all classes together," he continued, punctuating his assurance with a sweet smile that mirrored the friendship they shared.

You, a major in fine arts had a deep appreciation for all forms of artistic expression: music, art, dance—it mattered not. As Shotaro, a dance major, spoke, you offered a supportive nod, understanding each others feelings.

Your steps quickened with anticipation as y'all approached the university gates, a grand entrance adorned with the institution's emblem, standing as a beacon of knowledge and possibility. Beyond the gates, a panorama of lush greenery and modern buildings unfolded, painting a breathtaking backdrop against the canvas of the Seoul skyline.

As you and Shotaro crossed the threshold into the heart of the campus, a sense of excitement and belonging enveloped y’all.

As your shoes glided across the polished, reflective floor, Shotaro launched into a rambled about the injustice of having to attend a Korean class in the early morning. He expressed a unachievable desire to effortlessly absorb the language through some kind of magical intervention. Fortunately, attending the orientation had equipped you with the knowledge of the maze leading to y'all lecture hall.

As you step into the lecture hall, you notice how spacious the room is, with rows of desks arranged neatly facing the large whiteboard at the front. The hum of conversation fills the air as students chatter excitedly, exchanging greetings and sharing their own nervousness about the upcoming semester. You whisper to Shotaro, "This all so nerve wrecking right?" He nodded in agreeance, "It hasn't really settled in until now", Shotaro said while giggling. You couldn't help but giggle with him. " You're are so RIGHT!", you responded. "We should find a sit, somewhere in the middle?", Shotaro only nodded quickly.

You find yourself a seat near the middle of the room, feeling a bit self-conscious as you glance around at your classmates. Some faces are familiar, perhaps from orientation, while others are completely new to you. The atmosphere crackles with a sense of curiosity and eagerness. "Are you ready, Shotaro?", you said as you pulled your textbook and laptop. "As ready as anyone can be.. right?", He said almost looking anxious. You chuckled at his respondes, which in returned he began to laugh as well.

As the minutes tick by, the room gradually quiets down as the professor enters, commanding attention with a warm smile and a welcoming demeanor. She introduce herself in Korean, her voice melodic and soothing, instantly putting you at ease despite your initial nerves.

"We will all take turns introducing ourselves in Korean," she announces, her voice firm yet inviting. You sense a ripple of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness coursing through the room. With a reassuring smile, the professor adds, "To get to know each other. Please don't be afraid to make mistakes, that's why I'm here." Her words offer a comforting embrace.

Just as the moment begins to settle, the door creaks open, drawing all eyes to the newcomer. A boy saunters in, His outfit, almost like being straight from a Pinterest board, gives a sense of effortless style. Headphones dangle around his neck, a subtle statement of his individuality.

Jet-black hair, tousled yet purposeful, frames his face, the faintest hint of haste lingering in its tousled locks. But it's his hazel eyes that captivate, holding a depth that belies his shy demeanor.

As he tries to slip into a seat unnoticed, the professor's voice halts his movement. "Since you were late, how about we start with you," she says, her tone gentle yet firm. The color drains from his face, embarrassment washing over him like a wave. You can sense his discomfort, amplified by the spotlight suddenly thrust upon him.

With a hesitant nod, he accepts the professor's request, his voice barely above a whisper. Each syllable he utters feels like a delicate melody floating across the quiet lecture hall. It's flawless, leaving you momentarily stunned. You find yourself wondering why someone so adept at the language would be in a Korean class.

"Wow, Great job Anton" the professor praises, "You may take a seat now. Thank you." With a relieved exhale, he retreats to an empty spot, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing.

As the professor turns her attention to the rest of the class, he gives a shy nod of gratitude before swiftly finding a seat. Fate seems to guide him to the spot next to you, and as he settles in beside you, you catch a fleeting glimpse of curiosity in his eyes, sparking the beginning of an unexpected connection.

i hope you enjoyed <3. it's been a labor of love, and i've worked hard to bring this story to life. my name is eli and would appreciate your support as i'm new to publishing fanfics, i will continue to grow and would appreciate your support. Thank you <333

p.s: sorry for any grammar mistakes.

#kpop #riize x reader #riize #university #anton x reader #anton x y/n #riize anton #kpop bg #shotaro #lee anton #kpop idol #kpop x y/n #kpop x male reader #kpop x fem reader #kpop x gender neutral reader #kpop icons #bias #kpopidol

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signedeclipse · 1 year

Note

Placeholder for ice cream anons' request since they wished for their request to remain hidden! Hi self! Douma x uppermoon reader plz (details expunged, read on to figure out!)

Behind Closed Doors [Douma X Reader]

Reader is Demon Female | NSFW

Recomended Song - Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

It had been such a long time since you last appeared before the infinity castle, so many decades since a major change was announced by your lord Muzan. The strike of a biwa sounded closer with every step you took through each door that snapped open, seemingly endless, before you appeared before the woman that had orchestrated your appearance.

You had gone through many of these, seen the flows of who was stronger, been challenged by dozens of demons that eventually fell. Currently the only kanji in your eyes read uppermoon, but there was no number to be found.

But things had stilled for a bit over a century, things seemed to be going well, and the sudden change meant things were about to get stricter. You had seen how Lord Muzan worked, and it was just about time for him to snap.

It seemed you were the last to step in, as the moment the door snapped behind you, your attention was called to the tension across the space between the top three.

"The final uppermoon has arrived." Nakime called out, drawing the attention to you as you carefully glided down the stairs, moving past the shivering Hantengu, who only shuffled out of the way for you to continue past him so you could step onto the platform just beside the others'.

"Where is Lord Muzan?" You called the question into the air, though judging by the bloodied body of Gyokko strewn across the floor, you had missed him entirely.

"Lord Muzan has just left, he did not feel you needed to be reprimanded." Nakime finished before lowering her head, seemingly done informing you, which left you to turn to the others for any information.

"Miss l/n." Kokushibo bowed his head to you, though everyone else refrained from greeting you. There was no need for formalities now that everything was over.

You courtseyed to the upper rank, though with a quick surveillance of the room you felt there wasn't much left to be said, the room was empty of two individuals.

"I'm sorry your subordinates were killed, Douma." Your voice was teasing, and for seemingly the first time someone had attempted to speak to Douma out of interest and knowledge. Those who had seen you two more than once would know there was a thick atmosphere between the two of you, though what it was made up of was impossible to decipher.

A flame lit itself in the demon you'd addressed eyes', and he seemed much more cocky now that you were in the room.

"Oh, that? Well, I suppose not all of us are perfect. Isn't that right, Akaza?" The moment the words hissed through his teeth, Akaza tensed so visibly you'd almost been worried he would burst. In what felt like an instant, the demon hopped off into the maze of the infinity castle, and was strummed away by Nakime's chords.

You only cocked your head to the side, understanding that you must have missed another battle between the two. Akaza always was sore over his loss.

"I will be going now."

With just a step, Kokushibo dissipated as if in thin air, and the tension that was previously held in the space went along with it.

"Goodbye, Lord Kokushibo!"

The steady creaks of wood and metal shifting echoed in the space, though you could vaguely hear Hantengu's staggered breath, and the writhing of Gyokko as he attempted to regain control over his body. Douma and you sat silent, as if waiting for the other to break silence. He had been looking you over, noticing every change in your appearance since you had last met. You were stronger, as always, and it seemed your current post was as a nobel. It suited you.

"Was that all?" You turned back to Douma, only to find he had been staring straight at you. His eyes narrowed, looking down for but a moment at Gyokko's severed head.

"Ah yes, you just reminded me! Gyokko and Hantengu are going to investigate a clue. So, Gyokko-'' Immediately the pitter patter of small hands raced past you, a shrill voice screaming in the direction of Nakime.

"Please send Hantengu and myself to the same location!"

Hantengu wailed out, though was also cut off by two strikes of the biwa, both uppermoon four and five disappearing with them.

Then it was just the three of you, though Nakime kept a safe distance from any of the trouble. Douma seemed to have finally looked away, drawing out a long sigh. You could guess why; every kizuki hated him, Lord Muzan included… everyone except for you. Douma was always pestering and jabbing at the ego of others, though he had learnt to stay away from you long, long ago.

You had a certain way with discipline. A way not Kokushibo, hell, not even Lord Muzan could match in strength to what you'd done to him.

Douma clutched his pants, tilting his body to the left and feigning a smile. He had emotions, sure, but you knew the happiness was a facade to appease you, or perhaps trick you?

"Say, why don't we hang out after this! You can come to my place-"

"Or you could come to mine." Your head was facing opposite of him, ignoring any expression he attempted and staring down Nakime, who seemed to get the hint when her arm raised once more, striking it for the last time you'd likely hear in a while.

Your current place of stay was different, it changed every decade or so as you shifted from place to place, but this time it was a beautiful red temple, with tori gates leading out the door down a long set of stone stairs, where a village sat at the bottom of the hill.

You stared beyond the giant open gates, allowing Douma a peak before reaching forward and closing the heavy iron gate to the temple, sealing the two from the outside aside from the windows.

"Playing a new role already?" The uppermoon two teased, though he seemed a tad bit nervous, if not scared.

"Indeed. I took some inspiration from your little cult, and became the sacrifice of a local cult ruling over this poor, hopeless village." You paused to walk towards a large slab that went up to your waist made entirely of marble, it sat in between the door and the hearth that was in the middle of the large, open room.

Candles decorated the stairs leading up to the sacrificial podium, along with coins and various goods.

"According to the legend, a sacrifice must be chosen, and should they live a dozen decades the town will be ridden of its curse. Isn't that cute?" You sat on the altar, lifting your legs so they rested beside you, poking from your decorated gown.

"Curse?" Douma pushed curiously, circling the podium as if inspecting it, though you could feel his eyes burning against your skin.

That's when you laughed, a poison dripping in such an innocent sound, only telling of the malice you held deep inside of you.

"Yes, well, I took advantage of feasting off the people here since they were so isolated, but they convinced themselves their god had become upset and was killing them. Thus I am both the hand that kills them, and the sacrifice that will save them."

"You aren’t too dissimilar from them. You just don't know any better."

Between what you had shared of your new personality and your comparison, Douma bit his tongue, wondering what exactly you were hoping to get from him. Devotion? He'd give you every ounce of it if that was what you yearned for

In a moment, he felt hands- your hands, and hundreds of them- pushing him towards the altar, effectively forcing him to sit on the stairs, leaving his head in your lap.

Your demon blood art was very touchy, very controlling, and was oh so hard to expect when it was about to strike. Douma let out a sharp breath, but relaxed into the touch of your real hand meeting his cheek, caressing him.

"Staring me down in front of the other upper moons like a bitch in heat, was I not clear last time? Should I teach you further?" Your hand grabbed onto his face, harshly squishing his cheeks so his lips puckered and he looked at you, desperation building in his eyes.

You were so above him. A goddess, something worth worship, someone who made him feel something.

"Poor thing, you're no smarter than the humans below. You are just so lucky you have me here, aren't you?" A shiver ran down his spine as you let go, pressing your thumb against his lips to keep him quiet. His hands gripped so hard at the marble stairs that the stone crumbled in his grasp.

"Yes, Mistress."

Author Note - Thank you so much for requesting! I hope I was able to meet your expectations with the fanfic <3

Word Count - 1,478

Art Credit - @xbloolii (thank you so much for letting me use your work! Please follow this artist <3)

#demon slayer #kny x reader #x reader #reader insert #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x reader #oneshot #kny oneshots #demon slayer oneshots #douma #douma x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny

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taste-your-silhouette · 11 months

Text

Say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams

Pairings: Vic De Angelis xfem!reader

Contents: Fluff, SMUT

Summary: You're an up-and-coming actress, and Vic's best friend since high school. You have been friends and in love with each other for as long as you can remember. So when you have the chance to be together, it's magical.

Words: ~2276

A/N: Firstly, English isn't my native language, so pleeease forgive me if you come across any errors while reading. It's my first fanfiction, but I've planned it so so so much and I sincerely hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it!

"Well, she is..." A torrent of reminiscences flooded your mind, evoking memories of your youthful days, your time together in high school, and the challenging battles you fought to progress in your careers, always finding each other and nurturing your affection whenever circumstances permitted. "the love of my life."

In that poignant moment, it felt as though the air itself froze in your lungs, while a profound chill coursed through your entire being, setting your stomach aflutter.

"So, enlighten us on the factors contributing to your current state of not being together," the interviewer probed.

"We're constantly in each other's company, you know, whenever we can orchestrate it," you responded with a chuckle. "We're currently living the pinnacle of our lives, I mean, career-wise, you know? Måneskin is rocking it worldwide and I've got a TV series and two movies in the pipeline. It's quite a juggling act. Therefore, we're doing our utmost, just going with the flow."

You and the journalist continued to engage in lively discussions covering various topics, including your professional journey and the prospects of your upcoming projects. However, it was the part about your personal life that made you the most jittery. You had openly professed your love for Victoria in an interview for one of the biggest magazines in the world. Not that you both had never expressed your feelings for each other before, but this was different.

"What is the projected publication date for the article?" you inquired of the journalist.

"In a fortnight. Why do you ask? Regretting any of your statements?" she inquired, with a touch of suspicion yet clandestinely relishing the notion of your potential regret.

"Oh, not in the slightest," you responded, chuckling. "Simply curious."

🎸

"Guess who's rocking the cover of Rolling Stone!" your publicist burst into the dressing room, where you were getting ready for a TV show.

"Finally!" You widened your eyes and asked for a moment to quickly skim through the article. Of all the topics discussed, the focal point inevitably became your heartfelt declaration of love for Victoria, as though you had never before professed your love to her.

As you read snippets of the article, your phone rang, and a snapshot of you and Vic materialized with her name.

"Ciao cuore mio," you enthusiastically answered the call.

"So, am I really the love of your life?" Vic responded, her smile palpable.

"Did you read the magazine? I forewarned you, they would exploit it shamelessly, akin to treasure seekers lusting after gold."

"I only read the parts that piqued my interest, obviously. You look absolutely hot in the photoshoot they did. I want a poster of each of those pictures to plaster on the ceiling of every hotel I stay at during our tour." You struggle to contain your laughter, but it's futile.

You both shared a laugh for a moment. You needed to get back to doing your makeup, but hearing Victoria's voice was so invigorating. You missed her immensely.

"I wanna see you. It's been far too long since our last encounter, I can't bear it any longer," Victoria whispered the final sentence, sending shivers down your spine.

You were aware that the band was in the midst of their tour, so if you didn't go to meet her, you wouldn't be able to see each other.

"I have a recording session today, but I'm available all weekend. Where will you be?"

"Hmmm, we'll be passing through Germany. We have a concert in Berlin today and another in Cologne tomorrow. I'll have Sunday free. Fancy a little adventure around Germany?"

"Only if I have a backstage pass for the concert in Cologne."

"You always do, Y/N," Victoria replied confidently.

"Deal, now I have to go, I'm running terribly late. See you there."

🎸

At 7pm, you strolled into the dressing room accompanied by the security guards. Vic, Thomas and Ethan were gathered in a room adorned with an array of intriguing items, and serendipitously, you entered just as Victoria enveloped Thomas from behind, insinuating an intimate encounter. The vibrant energy exuded in that moment reignited a sense of belonging within you.

"I can't believe I made it to this amazing gathering!" You exclaim boisterously, bursting into laughter.

"Now the Måneskin is complete!" Thomas bellows, thrusting his hands into the air as he approaches to embrace you.

"Mia cara amica Y/N, I saved some slices of pizza for you," Ethan chimes in, hugging you while holding his drumsticks.

Damiano appears, shouting something incomprehensible, and in an instant, you find yourself on his shoulders.

"She's the love of my life," Damiano exclaims, mimicking your voice and bursting into laughter. "I've loved her ever since I grasped the true meaning of love. So much love for her!"

You close your eyes and burst into laughter as Damiano playfully mocks you, creating a nostalgic atmosphere where you all feel like carefree teenagers once again.

Suddenly, Victoria appears, perched atop Ethan's shoulders, mirroring your playful stance. You lock eyes, and in that moment, the world seems to stand still, leaving only the two of you. Having been apart for several months, every reunion is an explosion of emotions. One particular phrase she shared with you after a year-long separation still resonates: "I wanna swim between your thighs” Not long after that, Victoria confessed that, inspired by the night you spent together, she wrote "For Your Love" in just 20 minutes.

Your train of thought was abruptly halted when Damiano playfully released you, allowing Victoria to seize your face with both hands. With a glimmer of excitement in her eyes, she examined your features before planting a passionate kiss on your lips.

Regrettably, the kiss was short-lived, as they needed to take the stage. You accompanied them backstage, assisting Damiano and Thomas with their attire. When you approached Victoria to lend a hand, she awaited you with a radiant smile.

"I promise, once we're finished, I'll be completely devoted to you," she pledged, punctuating her words with one final kiss before donning her blazer.

"Oh, baby, rest assured, I'll be right here, hungrily devouring every captivating moment of the concert, my desires ignited by your mesmerizing performance."

"Mmm, I can feel the exhilaration coursing through my veins, knowing that this time, those deliciously naughty cravings will surpass your wildest imagination and materialize into an intoxicating reality."

She gave you a mischievous grin and, before turning towards the stage, playfully blew you an air kiss.

The concert was absolutely mind-blowing. The four of them were rocking it harder than ever, and your heart swelled with pride, having been there since their very first dream of starting a band and supporting them through every phase. Whenever Victoria had a chance to come backstage, she would shower you with passionate kisses, leaving you breathless.

By the end of the concert, they were buzzing with energy.

"You guys were fucking amazing!! I love you so much, I missed you!"

"We missed you too!" Ethan shouted over the roaring crowd, and Thomas nodded in agreement.

"Now that you're a big-shot actress, it's rare to see you tagging along to concerts with us," teased Damiano, laughing and tousling his hair. "But enough with this drama, I know you and Victoria are burning up inside. So go on, go head to the hotel and have a blast!"

"Next time, I'll bring Giorgia along so you won't be bored out of your mind, alright?"

We were teasing each other while Victoria changed outfits, and when she emerged in a different ensemble from the one she wore on stage, you, Damiano, and Thomas attempted to mimic a challenging dance move Thomas had seen on TikTok. Ethan, on the other hand, dared you to perform the same dance while he evaluated and gave it a rating.

As soon as you laid eyes on her, she looked absolutely stunning, even more down-to-earth than she did just moments ago on stage.

"Alright, enough fooling around, I've won, and my prize is Victoria. See you later." You halted the dance, approached Victoria, and planted a kiss on her lips.

🎸

You hop into an Uber to head back to the hotel, chatting away during the ride. Conversation has never been an issue for you both—you always have so much to catch up on since your lives are jam-packed, leaving little time for heart-to-heart talks.

"Last week, I was in Paris, did you catch that? Y/N, I stumbled upon this incredible restaurant that we absolutely have to try together. It's right up your alley, with all your favorite things. The whole time I was there, I couldn't stop thinking about you," she confessed.

"Was that the day you called me, and I couldn't pick up?"

"Yes, exactly! I just wanted to hear your voice. Sometimes it sucks being so far away from you," she replied, her gaze lowered as her hand gently glided up your thighs.

"We've arrived," the driver announces, and you step out of the car.

The moments leading up to entering Victoria's hotel room were a whirlwind for you, consumed by thoughts of indulging in every inch of her captivating form.

As soon as she locked the door behind you, her eyes locked onto yours, a potent mix of desire and admiration shining through. You yearned for her, craving her presence in every imaginable way. With a seductive grin, Vic shrugged off her jacket, revealing a tantalizing hint of her confidence. Closing the distance between you, she extended her hand and deftly slipped the coat off her shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

"Now you're all mine," she whispered, pressing her lips against your exposed shoulders, playfully nibbling at your neck.

"And you're all mine, just us here," you whispered, your voice laced with possessiveness and adoration. With a gentle caress, you twirled a strand of her hair around your finger, relishing in its silky touch against your skin. In that moment, the world faded away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a uniquely intimate bond.

With a daring move, she firmly grasped your hips, asserting her dominance. In one swift motion, she pressed you against the wall, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. A surge of anticipation shot through you as your back met the unyielding surface.

Driven by a heady mix of desire and control, her hands began their ascent. One arm encircled you possessively, drawing you closer, while the other embarked on a tantalizingly slow journey, inching higher and higher. The tension mounted, testing your patience, until at last, she cupped your breast, igniting a surge of pleasure that rippled through your entire being.

Vic pulled back her hands with a mischievous grin.

"Not yet," she said, slowly stepping backward toward her bed, still holding your hand, her gaze fixed on you.

She undressed you completely, leaving you completely naked. A triumphant smirk played on her lips as she pushed you onto the bed, delighting in the sight of her breasts bouncing.

"I missed you so much," she whispered.

Crawling on top of you, she captured your wrists, trapping you beneath her. Her lips crashed against yours, trailing down to your chin and neck. She ravished your skin, sucking and nibbling, leaving a trail of moist kisses in her path. Then, with purposeful motion, she positioned her knee between your thighs, pressing it against your moist center. A gasp escaped her lips as you instinctively moved your hips forward.

She showered your body with kisses, leaving love bites on your sides, hips, and thighs. Her gentle touch caressed your heated skin, sending shivers of delight through your body. Vic reveled in teasing you, savoring the sound of your moans. At last, she focused her attention on your most sensitive areas, her mischievous grin fueling your excitement.

Her fingers embarked on a tantalizing dance, teasing your folds and stroking your clit. As she slid two fingers inside you, she lowered her face, nestling it between your thighs. Vic's warm breath against your skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. With deliberate slowness, she lavished your clit with a long, languid lick, her tongue pressing firmly against it. Your moans filled the air as you instinctively reached out, tangling your fingers in her blonde locks, pulling her closer to you.

Vic increased the speed of her fingers, skillfully exploring every inch of her pulsating pussy, creating a symphony of juicy, tantalizing sounds. She eagerly sucked on your clit, simultaneously thrusting her fingers in and out with rapidity. The intensity heightened, your muscles tensing, and your body edging closer to the precipice. You couldn't help but let out loud moans, the pleasure intensifying within you.

And then it happened. Your climax crashed over you like a wild wave, and you couldn't suppress the loud scream that escaped your lips. Waves of ecstasy engulfed you as you experienced the euphoric release.

Vic continued to bestow attention on your sensitive folds, indulging in a few more licks of your pussy before planting a gentle kiss on your thigh, a silent sign of satisfaction.

"I missed you so, so much," she whispered, her mouth and chin still glistening, soaked with anticipation.

"Well, now it's my turn..." you whispered, a mischievous grin spreading across your face as you pulled her down, aligning your eyes with hers.

You pressed your lips against hers in a passionate kiss, and then shifted on top of her, reversing roles. This time, you took the lead and embarked on fulfilling her deepest desires, transporting her to euphoric heights just as she had done for you.

#vic de angelis #victoria de angelis #victoria de angelis x reader #vic de angelis x reader #victoria de angelis fic #måneskin fic #maneskin imagine

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zee-the-zebra · 7 months

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About The Kaveh Reincarnation Theory

I will make this theory make sense and no one can stop me.

Story Parallels

We know very little about the Goddess of Flowers but her connection to Kaveh is less about backstory and more his personality.

What do we know about her? She foresaw her own death in the cataclysm and didn’t run away from it. She facilitated her so she would leave a legacy greater than herself behind. And she did, creating the Jinn and the Khvarena. And what does Kaveh do on a near daily basis? Break himself over and over again to create things that will outlast him. And while he has succeeded in creating great things, he is still trying to make a legacy, no matter how much he brings himself to a closer ending than he should ever have.

Artifacts

Honeyed Final Feast

"In those days, the moonlight would tell of their happiness to the nightingale and the rose." "And they were so frightened and abashed that they could sing no song in response." "Peace and ease reigned, and there was no division or misfortune in this worriless paradise..." "If only these wonderful days, as lovely as a shimmering mirage, could last for eternity, and that they should never have to taste the bitterness of parting."

Could possibly parallel Kaveh and Al Haitham’s relationship before their falling out, as well as how Kaveh was living at what he thought to be the high point of his life before he ended up homeless.

Later, time sundered the contract between day and night, destroying the ancient oath. The gentle moonlight sank into the quicksand. The sun shrouded all things in its fearsome gaze.

The mention of quicksand is interesting, considering that is how Kaveh’s father died.

Dreaming Steelbloom

"When the moon leaves your palm, and the lonesome silver light retracts from atop the labyrinth on the sand ocean," "One hopes that you will remember how your companion in the dreams shone like the burning sun."

This is the same line I pulled for the Al Haitham write up but it still tracks as a possible parallel to Kaveh and Al Haitham’s falling out. Or rather, an implication that if things were to continue as they are, history might repeat itself between the “sun” and the “moon”

Ay-Khanoum's Myriad

In a bygone time which only the Jinn recall, the Lord of Flowers was cast aside by the heavens. Her magnificent vessel was left a savaged husk, her kinsfolk punished by way of being stripped of their minds... Legend has it that the Lord of Flowers wandered the barren wastes for seventy-two nights... Her heels were worn through by the merciless gravel. Her wounds gushed into limpid springs, turning into streams with no boundaries.

Could act as a parallel to Kaveh losing everything he has to create the palace and being homeless afterwards.

Wilting Feast

The Lord of Flowers capitulated to her friend's folly, finding a most admirable rebellion burning within the ambitions of the god. An idea that joined the wisdom of thousands, and the great attempt at binding their dreams to power. What hides here is more than lies, but also the future of humanity, burning like the sparks of hope... Dreams will always dissolve, their landscapes fated to collapse — this is the true meaning of the blooming flowers. Only by suffering through the destruction of a god's delusions can humanity learn to rise against divine will... Just as the stubborn God King orchestrated this secret rebellion, surviving on the strength of individual will alone. However, the Lord of Flowers never knew a love that could be as sweet as wine, let alone the paltriness of human emotion. Brilliant as she was, even she could not easily predict when these little beings would finally realize the truth... "... Have these so-called gods not been superfluous to you since the beginning?"

Oh boy, there’s a lot to unpack here, but I’ll attempt to simplify.

This is the very culmination of the parallels between Deshret and Nabu Maikata as well as Al Haitham and Kaveh. The main purpose here is that the Goddess of Flowers never truly agreed with Deshret. She could never fully believe in his ideas, yet she stayed by his side anyway in a hope that they could do something truly selfless for their people. This is almost one to one Al Haitham and Kaveh’s dynamic. They will never see eye to eye. Yet they are each other’s mirror, equals in every way.

And like the past, eventually these ideals clashed and the dream died. Deshret, like Al Haitham, chose to do all his work on his own. And Nabu, like Kaveh, did everything she could to be selfless, but could really only watch as her world crumbled. Nabu and Deshret’s love, like Kaveh and Al Haitham's, wasn't sweet. It was chaotic, all over the place, impossible to fully pin down and yet it was still there. After every tragedy, after every hardship, after the times where they believed they were nothing to each other, the emotions there had never grown dull.

The final thing to connect is the question Nabu was asked and the question Al Haitham asked Kaveh.

“How has realizing your ideals gone for you?”

For Nabu, the answer was to design a legacy born of both bitterness at life and the gods, as well as so those after her could live on. For Kaveh, he hasn’t figured out his answer yet.

Secret-Keeper's Magic Bottle

In a bygone time on which the Jinn alone are silent, King Deshret poured his deepest ambitions out before the Lord of Flowers... As the moonlight's visage drifted across ripples within a glass of pomegranate wine, the Lord of Flowers finally succumbed to the persuasion of a friend most beloved. The words King Deshret spoke that night remain unknown to all. Even the eldest Jinn bestow only silence when asked about that which was said. None know what secret desires King Deshret revealed in the dark past daylight, desires that might shock even the wisest of gods. But the Lord of Flowers herself drew enlightenment from the exchange. It had been within her calculus — something long foreseen. . . . "Know this: if there is to be hope in this world, it will be found kindling within mortals most ordinary."

Acts as a parallel to Kaveh and Al Haitham’s project while they were still in school. Also parallels Al Haitham’s closed off self reliance and Kaveh’s desire to give pieces of himself to others.

Connections to Real Life

The only name given to the Goddess of Flowers is Nabu Malikata. And while the first half of her name can’t really be attributed to Kaveh (Nabu being an ancient Mesopotamian god of literacy, the rational arts, scribes, and wisdom), the second half of her name can. Malikata can be translated to the ideogram of the Middle Persian word for queen, MLKTA. More proof of this is found in the Eternal Oasis, in her name is written as “NABU MLKTA” in the in-game Deshret Script, the same as the ideogram of the Middle Persian word.

Kaveh’s name, as I’ve learned (shout out to my friend Cado, who unintentionally helped me with a lot of this) is a very common Iranian/Persian name for boys. That’s just a fun fact, more specifically, the name came from the Shahnameh, or the Book of Kings. The name Kaveh was used for a character in the tale of Zahak the Serpent King, in which the Zoroastrian gods played major roles.

The Goddess of Flowers, created something known as Khvarena, which in Genshin is a purifying spirit, but in Zoroastrianism, is a concept of a divine power projected upon and aiding the appointed. While it could be considered grasping at straws, reincarnation or being the vessel of divine power could be considered a form of Khvarena in real life Zoroastrianism.

Now, we have no Goetic name or twisting of a Goetic name for Nabu Malikata, we can also lift from Egyptian mythology considering Deshret’s true name is Amun. The consort of Amun/Amun-Ra is Mut, sky, fertility and matriarch goddess said to be born from the primordial waters of Nu. This could be the proof of Nabu Malikata’s true name as she has been shown to have connections with Egeria, who wielded the power of the Primordial Sea. And, while not directly from Fontaine does have connections to it as his mother moved there.

As for Mut as a name, it could be twisted in Mathim, an alternate reading of Bathin, a demon said to know the virtues of precious stones and herbs.

Conclusion

Oddly enough I feel like this theory is far more concrete than the one with Al Haitham. With references to Persian mythology, mytho-history, and history in both the Goddess of Flowers and Kaveh, as well as the parallels in their stories, the theory actually feels very water-tight. Perhaps my theory with the most proof to date.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact theory #genshin theory #kaveh #genshin kaveh #goddess of flowers #nabu malikata #should I tag the ship?#i'm tagging the the ship #al haitham #alhaitham #haikaveh #kavetham #it's not really about the ship but i do mention it #so this is just to be safe

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aifanfictions · 6 months

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write a story about (y/n) being the captive of the Pillar Men and while she is there, at their hide out, she started getting closer to Wamuu. One evening, Wamuu brings (y/n) an mp3 and she shows him what its used for and how to use it and then she plays some classical music and teaches Wamuu how to dance

Dancing Hearts

Deep within the heart of their hidden sanctuary, (Y/N) found herself captive of the Pillar Men—ancient, powerful beings whose presence was as intimidating as it was mesmerizing. Initially, the situation had been dire, with the Pillar Men's intentions veiled in mystery. But as the days passed, something unexpected happened—(Y/N) began to forge an unlikely connection with one of them, Wamuu.

Wamuu, one of the Pillar Men, was as fierce as he was noble. His strength was unmatched, but there was a depth to his character that (Y/N) couldn't ignore. The more they interacted, the more they realized they shared a mutual respect for each other's qualities, and an unspoken bond of friendship began to form.

One evening, as the crimson hues of the setting sun bathed their hideout in a warm, golden light, Wamuu approached (Y/N) with an item he had found during one of their skirmishes—a small, rectangular device with buttons and a screen.

"(Y/N)," Wamuu rumbled, his voice a mixture of curiosity and confusion, "I have found this artifact. It seems to be called an 'mp3.' What purpose does it serve?"

(Y/N) examined the device and smiled warmly. "Wamuu, this is an mp3 player. It's used to listen to music. Here, let me show you how it works."

With a gentle touch, (Y/N) activated the device and navigated its functions, selecting a classical piece that she had stored on it. The music began to play, filling the air with a harmonious melody.

Wamuu watched in fascination as the sounds enveloped them. The classical piece, with its intricate orchestration, seemed to resonate with his soul, awakening a profound curiosity about the world of music.

"(Y/N), what is this wonderful sound?" he inquired, his eyes fixed on the device.

"This is classical music," (Y/N) explained. "It's a genre that's been cherished by humans for centuries. The combination of different instruments creates beautiful and complex harmonies."

As the music flowed around them, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel the transformative power of music. She glanced at Wamuu, who appeared captivated by the music's nuances.

"Would you like to learn how to dance to classical music, Wamuu?" (Y/N) suggested, her tone gentle and inviting.

Wamuu hesitated for a moment, his imposing stature giving way to a sense of vulnerability. "I have never danced before," he admitted.

(Y/N) smiled reassuringly. "It's never too late to learn, and dancing can be a beautiful way to express yourself. Let me show you."

With grace and poise, (Y/N) extended her hand to Wamuu, who took it with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. She guided him through the basic steps of a waltz, teaching him how to move in time with the music.

As they danced to the elegant rhythm of the classical piece, Wamuu's apprehension melted away. His movements became more fluid, and he began to embrace the dance with a newfound sense of joy and freedom.

Their dance continued, a dance of two unlikely companions brought together by the beauty of music. The sun had set, and the chamber was illuminated by the soft glow of the mp3 player's screen and the delicate harmony of their movements.

The world outside may have been filled with danger and uncertainty, but within that moment, the music and the dance brought a sense of peace and connection to (Y/N) and Wamuu. Their bond had deepened in ways that neither of them could have foreseen, transcending the boundaries of captivity and forging a friendship that defied the odds.

As the final notes of the classical piece played, (Y/N) and Wamuu shared a contented smile. In the heart of their hidden sanctuary, amidst the whispers of ancient legends and the looming presence of the Pillar Men, an unlikely friendship had blossomed. It was a melody of understanding, a dance of the soul, and a testament to the transformative power of music and connection.

Days turned into weeks, and the connection between (Y/N) and Wamuu continued to grow. They spent their evenings exploring the world of music, delving into the rich history of classical compositions. Each piece became an opportunity for them to connect on a deeper level, sharing their thoughts and emotions as they listened.

The hideout, once a place of captivity, had transformed into a haven where the two could be themselves. Wamuu, who had once been an imposing warrior, revealed a gentle and contemplative side. He spoke of the intricacies of battle, the value of honor, and the ancient history of the Pillar Men. (Y/N), in turn, shared stories of the human world, from art and literature to the simple pleasures of everyday life.

One evening, as they sat in a softly lit chamber, (Y/N) played a particularly moving piece—a symphony that stirred the depths of the soul. Wamuu listened with rapt attention, his eyes reflecting the emotions that swelled within him.

"(Y/N)," Wamuu said in a hushed voice, "this music is unlike anything I have ever experienced. It stirs something within me, something I cannot fully comprehend."

(Y/N) smiled. "Music has a way of reaching deep into our hearts and evoking emotions we may not even be aware of. It's a universal language that transcends boundaries."

Wamuu nodded, his gaze fixed on the mp3 player's screen. "I never imagined that I would find such beauty and solace in music. It has opened a new world to me."

As the days went by, their evenings of music and dance continued, each moment bringing them closer. Wamuu learned to appreciate the subtle nuances of classical compositions and even began to express his own thoughts about the melodies. (Y/N) was impressed by his keen observations and his growing passion for music.

One evening, (Y/N) introduced Wamuu to a different form of dance—a traditional human dance that expressed joy and celebration. Wamuu, who had mastered the art of battle, found himself challenged in a different way. With patience and determination, he learned the intricate steps and the rhythm of the dance.

They practiced together, laughing at their mistakes and sharing in the joy of their progress. The once-formidable warrior and the captive human had become dance partners, their connection transcending captivity.

As the weeks turned into months, something beautiful and unexpected had taken root in the hearts of (Y/N) and Wamuu. Their friendship had evolved into a profound bond, a connection that defied the boundaries of their circumstances. In one another, they had found solace, understanding, and a shared love for the world of music and dance.

One evening, as they danced to a lively tune, their steps perfectly synchronized, Wamuu spoke softly. "I never thought I would find a friend in this world, (Y/N). You have shown me the beauty of music and dance, but more importantly, you have shown me the beauty of the human heart."

(Y/N) smiled warmly, her heart filled with gratitude. "Wamuu, you have shown me that even in the most unexpected of places, true friendship can bloom. You are not the creature I once feared, but a kind and honorable soul."

Their dance continued, a testament to the transformative power of music, friendship, and the resilience of the human spirit. In the heart of their sanctuary, they had discovered a unique connection that transcended their differences and brought light into the darkest of places.

As they danced on, their laughter and the melodies of the mp3 player filled the chamber, a reminder that even in captivity, the human spirit could find moments of joy and connection. It was a melody of unlikely friendship, a dance of two souls who had defied the odds and found solace in each other's company.

And in the heart of their sanctuary, amidst the ancient legends and the presence of the Pillar Men, the bond between (Y/N) and Wamuu continued to flourish, proving that even in the most unlikely of circumstances, friendship and the power of music could transcend all.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

#x reader #reader insert #jjba wamuu #wamuu #wamuu x reader #wamuu x you #wamuu x y/n #Fanfiction #PillarMen #Y/N #Friendship #Music #Dance #Connection #Transformation #UnlikelyBond #Heartwarming #Resilience #JoJosBizarreAdventure

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ransprang · 6 months

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Ko-fi Request

thank you to our anon ko-fi supporter <3

if anyone else would like a paid fanfiction this is the link to our ko-fi :)

Show me your wing (Sephiroth x reader)

Your colleague stumbled at the door of the briefing room as you stood there, engaged in conversation with the scientists. "Y/n, the Shinra director is asking for you in his office," they informed you. You sighed, a little annoyed. "Alright, thanks." You were dressed in a dark blue dress, exuding professionalism, with your long dark hair flowing over your shoulders. Your white stiletto heels complemented your outfit, clanking against the metal floor as you left the room. SOLDIERS saluted you as you passed, abandoning their conversations.

You reached the director's room and approached his desk, with Sephiroth leaning against a spare desk nearby. "Thank you for coming," the director said. "We have a mission for you." You scoffed, showing your reluctance. "You know I don't usually take on missions. Why don't you ask those who do?" Rolling your eyes, you directed your comment at Sephiroth, who stood there with a soft smile, taking the jab in stride. The director appeared concerned. "So, neither of the 1st Class SOLDIERS is going to accept any missions? Great."

Sephiroth chuckled and spoke calmly, "Y/n, we've rarely seen you in combat. Come on, this one's for you." Annoyed, you turned away, realizing he had declined this mission just to watch you fight and be entertained. "Get a grip, I'm out," you told the director. Then, facing him once more, you added, "I'll coordinate the mission with the other SOLDIERS and step in if absolutely necessary." The director nodded, "Very well then. Sephiroth, we've been too lenient on you. Take this one." Sephiroth nonchalantly got up and responded, "As you say," before leaving.

On the day of the mission in Banora village, Sephiroth arrived as you stood alongside Tseng. You spoke into your microphone, "Ten o'clock, Seph, there's a mob." Sephiroth echoed, "Backup." Tseng gave you a sidelong glance. "He's determined, isn't he?" You were furious, stomping your foot and marching off in his direction. Sephiroth could easily take down Bahamut alone but had called for backup against a mob. It was a clear indication that he wanted to see you fight.

When you reached the location, it was empty. Sephiroth had already cleared the area, leaving only the two of you. "What a waste of my time," you muttered, turning to leave. But then, you felt the cold silver of his katana against your neck. Instinctively, you used the dagger you kept attached to your thigh to fend him off. You managed to deflect Sephiroth's attack smoothly, saying, "Try harder next time." He wasted no time launching another rapid attack, and you defended yourself expertly, not allowing a single scratch.

Your eyes narrowed in anger. How could he make you do this? He knew you despised fighting. You began to attack him as he shifted to defense, tears welling up in your eyes as you fought furiously.

Tseng made his way to the location upon hearing the clamor of blades clashing. He shot his gun through the air, snapping both you and Sephiroth back to your senses. You were both too powerful to hurt each other. He had orchestrated this merely to derive amusement. In a moment of fury, you took your knife and slashed into your upper arms, allowing the blood to drip to the floor. "Are you happy now?" you demanded before walking away, leaving Sephiroth behind, looking amazed and shocked.

Later that day, you found yourself in the training room, trying to release the remaining adrenaline. When you heard the door creak open, you stopped and turned around to see Sephiroth stepping in, his boots echoing on the floor. "You are so mysterious... why don't you want to fight?" he asked. You relaxed, keeping the blade in your hand lowered. "I can fight, but must I? I don't want to destroy anything. I prefer creating beauty, art, organizing a team..." Both of you fell into silence, but it felt like he understood you. Your only other friends had been Genesis and Angeal, but recent events had changed their circumstances.

Sephiroth drew near, using his gloved hand to touch the fresh cut you had made earlier in the day. You whimpered softly as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. He remained quiet as he embraced you tightly, and then, gently taking your hand, he led you to his room. Both of your bodies ached from years of pain, but on this day, your heart longed for love. Sephiroth showed care and tenderness, though he may not have recognized his own need for the same love, you certainly did.

Sephiroth kissed your lips as he fell on top of you on the bed. You opened your legs and straddled him as you let your wet panties grind against his leather pants. He began dry humping you as his kisses got deeper. Sephiroth suddenly got up and took off his leather coat, as you scampered to take off your dress. You both were completely naked, you had never been in this position with Sephiroth before despite always being attracted to him.

He leaped forward closing the gap between you two as he entered your entrance with his massive dick. It stretched you out as your closed your eyes in pain, he smiled looking at your state but naturally thrusted slowly, eventually increasing his pace. As you both neared orgasm he stopped, Sephiroth lifted himself in a plank position to look you in the eyes. You were in euphoria and gave him a smile which he returned.

Your eyes widened as he brought our his majestic wing, it flared behind him with feathers flying around the room as one landed next to your cheek softly touching your skin. "Your turn, y/n" he said as he was still inside of you. You bit your lower lip, you never used your wing, hell you never even fought on missions. Your heart thumped knowing no ones ever seen yours. You closed your eyes and your wing opened up behind against the bed. It was beautiful, just like Sephiroths, but yours was on the opposite side. If you two became one youd be a two winged angel. Sephiroth smiled, "good girl" He went back in and began humping.

Sephiroth caught pace again, bringing back the heat and build up to the orgasm you could feel his dick go in and out. He hugged you tightly as your legs straddled him. He used his wing to wrap you as you used yours to wrap him. It was like a cocoon of feathers. As you two orgasmed together, Sephiroth grunted and you left out a loud moan digging your nails into his back.

You both stayed there hugging and wrapped in each others wing for a while. Sephiroth whispered "maybe you will create life today" you softly smiled as you dug you face into his neck gently getting caressed by his soft white hair.

your wing,

Admin Sav

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years

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Wither. Yan Kaeya x F Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Underlying yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, depictions of trauma and anxiety. Word count: 3k.

Third installment of Transfixed and Equinox.

If there’s anyone who understands the nuance of loss, it’s Kaeya Alberich.

Not many had the privilege of knowing this about him, but those who did might find themselves subjected to some wry humor when enough alcohol flowed through his system. To most, his remarks might come off as cryptic, more befitting of a bard’s tale than their idea of the whimsical Cavalry Captain. A sobered up Kaeya the following morning could barely blame them for not taking him seriously. Lost and condemned homelands, being abandoned by one patriarch for another, duels fought over soil where blood had recently flowed alongside secrets better kept behind closed lips.

It adds and adds and adds.

One needn’t be an architect to understand this basic principle: continue stacking weight atop an unsteady foundation, and you run the risk of it toppling over altogether.

This is the point Kaeya finds himself at.

The precipice of total collapse.

Jean, the Acting Grand Master, had gone so far as to personally beseech Kaeya to take time off. In her own words, it wasn’t an order from a superior, but concern from a friend. Kaeya had been all but shut up in his office for the rise and fall of multiple moons, his sole lifeline to the outside world Noelle scuttering meals in timely intervals. Jean entered without knocking, since those who tried that method were promptly sent off.

“This isn’t healthy,” she told him. There were maps of Mondstadt strewn about the floor, his curtains pulled taut to refuse the entry of sunlight, and the wax of candles burning for far too long at their lowest point. “I know I might not have the right to speak on this, but taking the time to rest is an important part of working too. We can’t operate without it.”

“For ages, you dealt with complaints that I wasn't working hard enough. It isn’t until the pendulum swings in the other direction that you bother getting involved.”

Jean took the criticism like water off a duck’s back. “Because, unlike some, I see how diligent you work even when the lesser trained eye cannot. This new extreme won’t get you anywhere worth being. You trust me, don’t you? Then you must know I’m taking this seriously. What I commit myself to, I get done.”

He smiled at that. “The same could be said for me.”

“For better or for worse,” she agreed with a sigh. “The lead we’re following is solid. Oh, don’t look at me like that — I’m sure your sources already informed you what I planned to announce in tomorrow morning’s debriefing. We have multiple confirmed sightings from reputable witnesses that the Abyss is making encampments near Wolvendom. Why not rest up for the night so you’re at your best?”

“I thought it was awfully convenient how the door to your office was left open when one of my favorite guards just so happened to be stationed,” he still had yet to look up from the map on his desk. When Jean tracked the movements of Kaeya’s eye, she saw his attention was nowhere else but the aforementioned Wolvendom. He didn’t mind that she all but called him out for taking advantage and orchestrating an information leak, if anything, he’d been counting on it. Her compassion would be what let him get away with it.

A certain brother of his was in a similarly difficult position, he turned a blind eye to some of Kaeya’s more questionable behavior. He’d gladly use this short window to operate in the ways that’d serve him best.

“We’re worried about you, Kaeya.”

He found it wise that she chose not to press the negative issue in favor of redirecting his attention. Clever, clever. Was that what it was like to be on the receiving end of his own ploys? He can’t say it’s very enjoyable. Nonetheless, he played the game set before him.

“And who exactly is ‘we’, might I ask?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t already know, far from it. He just wanted it spoken aloud; given form so tangible he could almost reach out and touch it. There is satisfaction to be found in sublime suffering. For if he was robbed of that, he mused, he’d be left unable to feel anything at all. Now that wouldn’t do.

Jean contemplated the merits of giving Kaeya what he wanted or what he needed. In the end, he reigned victorious, as she went with the former.

“[First]. You can act strong around her all you like, but she knows better. She sees past it and chooses not to say anything… in your presence, at least. Barbara tells me she’s more concerned with your condition than her own. That should be telling enough.”

At long last, Kaeya looked up from his map and pushed aside his seemingly endless schemes. The Dandelion Knight did not see a man who had lost his ambition, but one that clung to its thorns, no matter how much it made him bleed. He took pride in the pinpricks for it proved he would never let go.

A mutual, knowing glance was exchanged while words were withheld. It was understood then that no combination of clever lexicon or perfect intonation would move him. Perhaps Jean already knew she’d be unsuccessful in her endeavors, yet felt moved to try anyway, as it was better to try and fail than to recognize doing nothing would net the same results. Kaeya respected and adhered to that very notion himself.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Jean announced, her lips pulled into a firm line. He knew that expression well — unsatisfied, with a hint of regret. It’s the countenance that greeted him whenever he happened upon his reflection.

She paused just before her hand could twist the doorknob. “That glaze lily on your desk… if you tend to it too much, as you have been, it’ll be smothered by your efforts and wilt.”

Whether or not Jean spoke with the glaze lily in mind was debatable. But right at that point, Kaeya was in no mood to engage in discourse and preferred to leave it at that. There wasn’t anything she could tell him that he didn’t know himself.

“I’ll take note of your apparent botany expertise, Acting Grand Master.”

She hesitated, but in the end, left without another word.

Come morning, neither Jean nor Kaeya acknowledge the chasm formed by last night’s dialogue. They keep matters professional. Jean, for the sake of maintaining appearances, and Kaeya, because his attention could not be divided up any further. He’s certain that Crepus Ragnvindr himself could resurrect in front of his very eyes and he’d pay the miracle no mind.

As he fights, cutting through otherworldly forces that sought to do his beloved irreversible harm, it is your image and voice that guides his blade.

Kaeya, what would I do without you?

He remembers thinking it was a silly question at the time. For in his mind, he decided he’d always have you; and you, him. There was no other option. He’d entertain nothing else.

It’s like you always know what to say to make me feel better.

He had to. For if he didn’t, what use would you have for a depraved man such as himself?

This is a Windblume I give to you — a testament of my budding love.

What rotten soil he provided it with to grow. Whether it be arrogance or willful ignorance, he thought you could flourish, so long as he preemptively pulled out any weeds that might disturb you. Letters from your home that might encourage you to move back. Well-meaning friends who wondered why your schedule could never work to accommodate them, but always him. Job offers with enticing benefits yet hours too long for his liking. He dirtied his hands in every way imaginable and still, reality saw fit to remain a far cry from his fantasies.

Crimson drips from his silver blade, the tears from the weeping sky above washing it away.

The inclement weather had almost been enough for Jean to delay the attack. It was by his insistence that they carried through with their original plan, save for a few adjustments. Kaeya had prepared multiple strategies in anticipation of anything going wrong. This proved to be useful, for the Knights were successful in their endeavors. Some newer recruits were hurt but far from knocking on death’s door.

However, if it had served his designs, he wouldn’t have hesitated to send them all to an early grave. How fortunate they were that he found the sacrifice to be unnecessary today.

The few Abyss Mages that they rid the world of hardly quenched his thirst for revenge. How could it, when he’s personally had to witness the repercussions of what they did to you? The tears, the spurts of all-consuming anxiety, the nightmares he’d spend hours each night soothing you from? Recovery from a near-death experience was far from linear. For every good day, there seemed to be two bad ones lurking around the corner, waiting to grab you with their impish hands and drag you into the shadows.

Kaeya barely comprehends the fervent calls of his title in the distance. He’s diligent in scrutinizing the various details of the camp, everything from how long the firewood was burning to footprints entrenching themselves in his memory. Stooping over, he examines the mixture of soil where the Abyss Mages once stood, certain that it’ll clue him into discovering more.

“Captain… Kaeya,” a voice he recognizes as belonging to Swan huffs.

The Knight receives a hum in acknowledgment for his troubles.

This soil’s coloration and density is common in Cape Oath, he thinks. I’ll have patrols in the area increased. Perhaps twist it to sound more urgent than it actually is to ensure the higher-ups treat it with immediate attention…

“Um, sir,” Swan tries again to secure his attention. “I know you’re busy, but, [First] had an accident and I was sent to retrieve you—”

Kaeya is towering over him immediately. “What happened?”

His tone is sharp enough to rival the sword he so expertly wielded minutes earlier.

“Well, from what I can understand, [First]’s suffered loss of coordination following the attack on Mondstadt. She apparently fell at an awkward angle and injured her head. Barbara is treating her now, and while it isn’t fatal, she still thought it’d be best to have you alongside her due to how disoriented she is.”

Kaeya taps his foot repeatedly on the muddy ground. “When exactly did this occur?”

“T-Thirty or so minutes after you left, sir.”

“Then why am I hearing about this now, when that was six hours ago?”

“I was advised against interrupting such an important operation, a-and, well, with the weather—”

“The weather. You’re going to blame the weather,” Kaeya deadpans. There were some choice words and actions permeating the back of his mind, but this wasn’t the time or place to act on them. Not with so many witnesses. Swan’s complexion is pallid enough that any passerby might think he had seen a ghost. Such a specter might have been preferable to Kaeya’s chilled wrath.

Kaeya moves past the shuddering man without wasting another breath.

Nothing else matters to him as the scenery blends into an indiscernible blur. He runs as fast as his legs can carry him, ignoring the ache of his muscles and dull throbs of his head. The stormy clouds overhead make it difficult for him to navigate the winding paths and rocky roads, but he journeys onward, branches snapping beneath his feet. His thoughts are dominated by you, owned by you heart and soul. He would ensure that you’d never be without him. This solemn promise that he made to himself could never be broken.

Eventually, he stands before the familiar cobble bridge and gates of Mondstadt. Some people greet him, yet he barely registers their existence, finding them akin to a speck of dust. It wasn’t long ago that he ran this exact route with a similar sense of urgency — when the news came that you had woken up following your attack. At that time, he didn’t know what to expect and desperately wished that he did. He cannot say the same this go-round. He almost doesn’t want to know what awaits him past the doors of the Favonius Cathedral.

“[First]’s just in there,” Barbara tells him, having anticipated his arrival long in advance. Her voice is soft and steeped with sickeningly sweet empathy. “Be sure to keep your voice low, she’s fighting a nasty migraine. I’m sure she wants to see you regardless, though.”

Kaeya wonders if he’ll be able to form any words whatsoever from how out of breath he is. Regardless, he knows how seriously Barbara takes your health; he nods so that she’ll let him in.

You lay inside the small, infirmary-style room, resting on a white cot. He tries — and fails — not to wake you, the telltale squeaking from his wet boots giving him away in an instant. Your eyelashes flutter open, hazy eyes filling with mirth at the sight of your beloved. The smile you give him is nowhere near as forced as his own. There’s no suffering more visceral than seeing the only person you care for in pain. You may try and hide it, but he knows you too well. Your shallow breaths and occasional wince tell him everything your lips won’t.

“You’re absolutely drenched,” you point out, half-joking. Then, your compassion peaks through, like sunshine parting clouds on an overcast day. “I know they have some spare clothes here. It might not be as flashy as your normal garb, but it should do the trick.”

Kaeya kneels by your bedside. He helps himself to your hand, raising it and pressing his lips against the skin in silent reverence. “That desperate to see me get changed, huh? How risqué.”

Banter has always come naturally between you two. After you initially woke from the Abyss’ attack, you told him that while you understand his reasoning, he shouldn’t treat you any differently than how he used to. An impossible task — nonetheless, he agreed so you wouldn’t give him a hard time about it.

Your nose crinkles and you laugh. “You wish. This is—”

A paroxysm overcomes you. You cough and sputter, while Kaeya is helpless to do nothing but watch and look for a remedy to your ailment that doesn’t exist. Fortunately, the attack doesn’t last long, but it serves to further exacerbate your headache. He feels you squeeze down on his hand while you try and regain control over your rebellious body. A few minutes pass in silence until you’re well enough to speak again.

“I’m sorry I made you come all this way,” you mutter. He frowns, quickly deciding that he doesn’t like how you sound when dejected. “It sounds like whatever you were doing today was important. I didn’t… I didn’t ruin anything, did I?”

“What? Of course not,” he dispels the falsehood with a hammering heart. His voice lacks the usual bravado he’s known for. “The last thing I want is for you to feel bad. If I didn’t want to be here, trust me, we wouldn’t be talking right now. You know I’m great at weaseling out of stuff I don’t want to do, don’t you?”

He’s unsure who he’s truly introducing this levity for you, or himself.

Your lips quirk up but you lack the energy to give him a full smile. “Well, that isn’t wrong per se…”

“See? You know me so well,” the parts he wants you to know, at least. He places another kiss on top of your hand. “Now, here’s what I want you to do. I want you to remember that you put up with a person like me. Ah, there’s a good expression, I can tell you’re giving it plenty of thought. Good, good. Okay, back to our little mental exercise. How many people do you think could do that, hm? Not many, I can tell you that much.”

Kaeya squeezes your hand softly. “And then there’s you…”

“Beautiful.”

He kisses your inner wrist.

“Resilient.”

Then your shoulder.

“Precious.”

Finally, your forehead. “Utterly lovable, you. So look me in the eye and tell me you don’t think this arrangement is fair. Because maybe it isn’t — just not for the reason you believe. I’m the one making out like a bandit here, not the other way around. I get the honor of saying you’re mine. Got it?”

When you stare at him the way you are now, he remembers just why he adores you so, to the point he’d let himself go mad.

“You still want me to be yours then, despite all the trouble I cause?”

“Trouble,” he repeats the word, almost incredulous. “You’re the furthest thing from it. Perish the thought.”

If you’re trouble, then he can’t fathom what label could be applied to him.

This ardent promise of his appears to settle down your concerns for now. He knows fog as thick as the kind plaguing you can’t be remedied with a few, sweet words, but he hopes he can stave it off for the time being. You settle down back into the bed upon his prompting. He’ll need a towel to dry off where he got you damp in his fit of passion. If you’re bothered by it, you don’t complain, not that he’d ever expect you to.

There are few sounds, save for your soft breathing and occasional footsteps outside the room.

“Kaeya?” You speak up, tentative.

“Hm?”

“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,” he promises. “Rest up. And try to dream about me a lot too while you’re at it.”

Another laugh. Kaeya swears that a divine-led chorus could scarcely compare to the delight birthed in his chest upon hearing the sound.

His current life with you might not be exactly what he envisioned — but there’s nothing he’s better at than improvising. What matters the most is that he can call you his without you disagreeing. If you knew everything he’d done to earn the right to say that, he’d doubt you’d accept it with the same ease that you do now.

#kaeya x reader #yandere kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #yandere kaeya alberich x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff #commissions

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november-rising · 8 months

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The Bear: Season One, Episode Six Ceres - Last Train Home

As I said in my last post, John Mayer's "Last Train Home" has crossed my mind many times. I’m realizing now why this song means something to me. Original or Ballad, this song plays right after Tina talks to Richie who has reached his limits.

Richie is feeling on the outside. He’s the old guard. Everyone is changing. Sydney and Carmen are “kids, you know. [...] This is a delicate fucking ecosystem!”

Everything is coming to blows with The OG Beef, Carmen, Sydney, staff, new OG Beef…

It’s all changing. And, as he says, he doesn’t need this shit right now. The warble in his voice as he says this, pointing towards the building - it’s heartbreaking.

For Richie, the restaurant started to become out of sync when Carmy came ‘roud. It stumbled with Syd’s guidance. But it’s this point, right here, while venting to Tina, that Richie realizes that the “delicate ecosystem” has begun to evolve and stray from his (and Mickey’s) vision of the shop. What’s the point in staying if it can’t be like it’s always been? Thus, Ritchie threatens to quit. And Tina reminds him:

Yeah. Where is he going to go?

Then “Last Train Home” starts to play. It’s soothes the transition back into the "new" kitchen. To me, it is an intro into the start of a clear, functioning kitchen.

Sydney is running expo. The OGB Crew is responding with exacting attention and action. Carmen, as this viewer observed, didn’t seem so rushed. There seemed to be a breath moving through the kitchen. There’s not the pressure of urgency, in a matter of speaking. There is a flow within and between the staff.

Carmen is focused on his craft, creating and executing dishes while Sydney orchestrates the flow. Unlike the Carmen in the flashback at the start of this episode, this time, he isn’t being directed or in awe of someone (something) else. He’s crafting something using his own staples, comforts, and tried-and-true methods. The chicken and peppers dish is homestyle just like Sunday braciole. He patiently (as one can) cooks this dish, passes it off to Sydney who clears the plate for service. Sydney evaluates, corrects and/or approves dishes. Her judgement is trusted.

All of this shows the process of purpose.

Carmen is making meaning while Richie is shown, time and again that he’s stuck. Richie is living in a past that Mikey carved out. He’s trying to find his place which is why, I think ,he called the cops on the homies eating sandwiches Syd made to keep the peace. This is the moment that led to the Season 2 Episode 1 basement conversation Richie has about purpose.

#the bear #the bear fx #tina the bear #richie jerimovich #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #the last train home #the bear ceres #sydney the bear

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wiiildflowerrr · 7 months

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Dork: 'The 5 Seconds Of Summer Show is a phenomenal bow out at London's O2 Arena'

'The 5SOS Show arrives as a victory lap to cap off the last decade.'

'It’s been seven years since 5 Seconds Of Summer last played The O2. In 2016, they were a very different band and have undergone quite a transformation on the journey back to the top.

Tonight’s performance, dubbed The 5 Seconds Of Summer Show, honours every version of the group so far, flexing their outstanding versatility over the course of a two-hour spectacular. Amidst a disjointed touring schedule (last year’s album ‘5SOS5’ was toured before its release, in conjunction with a late tour of 2020’s ‘CALM’), The 5SOS Show arrives as a bit of a victory lap to cap off the last decade.

The boys have long been vocal about their want to be taken seriously as a band, but in 2023, the show speaks for itself. Worlds away from the touching album preview show at London’s Royal Albert Hall this time last year, the ability to morph tracks old and new from those sentimental orchestral moments to these wildly fun arena bangers is a testament to the band’s skill and creativity.

Opening with ‘Bad Omens’ – the track they closed that last London show with – it kicks off a run of their more mature tracks: the nostalgic ‘2011’, lovelorn ‘Caramel’ and huge sax-solo number ‘BLENDER’. Where previous tours have seen the boys settle into this flow, with setlists comprising mostly of recent material, this one throws that out of the window, instead enlisting endless fan favourites and tracks that haven’t had live outings for years.

Older album cuts like ‘Babylon’ and ‘Why Won’t You Love Me’ from 2018’s big switch-up ‘Youngblood’ earn a place, but it’s ‘Sounds Good Feels Good’ – the album they were touring on their last stop at The O2 – that really gets its dues, with ‘Vapor’ and ‘Waste The Night’ getting the biggest ‘if you know, you know’ reaction.

5SOS know exactly what the fans want to hear, doubling down by rolling out an inflatable dice with heavily requested tracks printed on it across the crowd to select one, eventually ending up on debut album cut ‘English Love Affair’. One fan also took matters into their own hands by lobbing a DIY dice plastered with ‘If You Don’t Know’ on every side towards the stage; guitarist Michael catches it but unfortunately doesn’t cave in to the request.

It’s just one of the moments in the show that sets 5SOS apart from their peers. The set is divided by occasional video interludes, including one where the boys dress up as surgeons and diagnose the audience as 5SOS fans. Another segment sees drummer Ashton do a bonkers solo in a battle against the crowd for who can be louder, which ends in the other three boys returning to the stage to set off ketchup and mustard bottle-shaped confetti cannons following a vocal cue of “GET SAUCED”.

The whole show is outrageous fun, whether it’s these moments that call back to the nonsense of their old live shows or purely just rattling through the bangers; 5 Seconds Of Summer prove their longstanding relevance throughout the mammoth set tonight. It’s not just a performance that sheds light on the boys’ own skills, but one that also demonstrates the ways in which 5SOS and the fandom have coexisted for over ten years, something shown rather literally during ‘Best Friends’, 5SOS’ ode to one another, that turns that camera on the audience and encourages them to have a cuddle.

As 5SOS prepare to take some time off, The 5 Seconds Of Summer Show is a phenomenal bow out until further notice. Much like their discography, it’s consistently surprising, equally ridiculous and emotional, their growth as a band more obviously laid out than ever before.' X

#the 5sos show london #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum hood #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #michael clifford #dork magazine #gig review #concert review #the 5sos show tour #2023 #get sauced

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soufcakmistress · 2 years

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Charleston Blues

Part II

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black OC

“What you done did to me?” Chantilly examined her naked body with bugged eyes and every question in the world.

(I’ve molded you in my image. There are in fact still a few things that you need.)

Ursilene pointed her way and three separate lengths of waistbeads appeared on Tilly’s body, matching the color of her gown. A gold anklet was magically fastened on her ankle, and Tilly kneeled to rave over the detailing.

(Rise, girl.)

Ursilene was so tall, her head grazed the ceiling. One blink and she decreased in size to look Chantilly right in her eye. Her voice still unnerved Tilly. The way that it vibrated through her chest and resounded through her body; the new connection was powerful and terrifying. Ursilene smiled wide showing her smoke stained teeth and pulled out a tiny gold ring from behind her back.

(Stand still. This will hurt a bit.)

All of Tilly’s limbs were frozen in time as she stood. Her back stood straight as an arrow, with her arms out to her sides. She tried not to whimper but she had no idea what was going on. This being was capable of things that nobody would ever believe. The gold ring unfurled into a straight line, floating about Ursilene’s palm. Lightning fast, the gold ring aimed right for Tilly’s left nipple, piercing her flesh and curled in on itself, securing the perfect circle. Tilly screamed bloody murder, and there was plenty of blood that fell.

“Bitch!!! You couldn’t count or something???? Fuck!!!!!” Blood cascaded down her belly and her mound, and Ursilene released her. Tilly curled into a ball immediately.

(The world you once knew is gone. The woman you once were is dead. You have been burdened with tremendous power. Every sense you invoke, every thought you think, every feeling you experience…..will be heightened. Your physical strength will become overwhelming. Your mental capacity will expand to new depths. Your ability to carry out unthinkable acts in the name of justice will have no limit. Your compassion and patience for women and children will grow and evolve more than you thought possible. Is it starting to make sense?)

Tilly’s whole chest throbbed from the piercing pain. But she sighed sullenly and nodded. The shift had been almost immediate. Her vision was sharper. Each breath radiated through her body differently, almost as if her lung capacity grew. The pain from the piercing began to die down and Tilly dressed herself in a robe. “I would like to be alone. If I have your permission.”

(Take a few days. Feel your way through it. The others did the same. I’m orchestrating some things in the meantime. You will receive a call in two days time that will add to the many changes in your life. The prosperity I promised will be yours. But…..when I call for you….and by now you should know when I’m near…I need all of you.)

Tilly gulped and walked to the window, gazing at the newly manicured yard, with Pepper’s old self sleeping under the Spanish moss tree. No more termite riddled porch. No more cracked windows and raggedy shutters. No more chicken shit littered everywhere. A total turn around from 12 hours ago. “Yes, Ursilene. Understood.”

She disappeared in a cloud of grey smoke leaving the room smelling of incense. Tilly stood starstruck at the idea of a clean slate. Nothing would be the same from here on out. The vanity that used to be ruined now showed a perfect reflection of Tilly’s new appearance. She shed her robe, and looked at herself. Tilly had always been plump and adorable; now she looked like a beautiful subject of a renaissance portrait. Tilly felt more feminine than ever with her long kinky hair flowing as such. The gold jewelry made her feel juicy and luscious and she became aware of the wetness between her legs. Ursilene did say that everything was heightened for her now…

Looking at herself turned her on now. That never happened before. She touched her new nipple ring and circled it, causing the ache to grow in her womb. Tilly covered the soft curl covered mound with her hand and rubbed back and forth. Her face heated up dramatically, and she put her other hand in her hair. These weren’t things that good wholesome young women in 1958 should be doing. Her mother always said her body belonged to God and that masturbation was frowned upon. Is that why it felt so good?

Tilly had never felt such overwhelming pleasure before. She stumbled onto her bed, spreading her legs. Rubbing her clit around in the perfect circle, she pinched her nipple ring, and ascended to a bliss not known to this plane. As she made her way back to Earth, her body was covered in sweat, and her hand was covered in her womanly fluids. “I could get used to this hea’..”

“Back it up, back it up. Keep going! Okay, now stop. Perfect.” Erik directed the truck driver into the loading dock behind the store. This heat reminded him of old times and he pulled a bandana from his pocket to swipe his face. Erik Stevens was a Korean War vet who had seen death up close and lived to see another day. His ambitions led him to become one of the first Black commissioned officers for the United States Navy.

Erik knew suffering and pain, and he worked exponentially hard to ensure he didn’t feel that ever again. Orphaned from an early age, he set out on his own in Oakland as a second generation child of the Great Migration.

His father wasn’t American, but his mother was and they worked tirelessly in tandem to give him love and guidance while they were still here. Life had other plans for Erik however.

Erik had always been too smart for his own good. Slick and sly. Cunning and quick. He was 19 when he graduated from MIT, and working as a graduate assistant for the engineering department. It wasn’t enough money for him. Every night after erasing chalk boards and grading exams, he would use every penny he had in the gambling dens of Cambridge.

Italians and Irish in that part of Massachusetts had an alliance to split up the racket. Erik had been making waves amongst certain tables. He loved Blackjack. His math was perfect; he could feel out anything by the odds and win all of his bets. On more than one occasion, Erik would have to fight his way out due to some hating ass white boys that couldn’t stand to be embarrassed. His knuckles were permanently hardened and scarred like his heart and he preferred it that way.

Then the war happened. He was shortly drafted after news of conscription came to Massachusetts. Seven months after basic and specialist training, he would hunt, torture and kill for his country. He started to make a name for himself. Erik rose in the ranks and became a lieutenant for courage and bravery and attained a moniker that’ll follow him to the grave. Killmonger.

The blockade of Wonsan allowed him to garner medal after medal. Due to his vigorous show of enthusiasm, he had been selected for a ghost unit to infiltrate the Korean shores against the North Korean army. For every kill, he would slash his flesh as a reminder of the life taken and maybe also for the life that seeped out of him.

After the armistice, the Americans went home. But not all of them. Erik was able to receive the Medal of Honor and an honorable discharge with excellent service after the war and stayed overseas. America could be useful in the future but Korea had sights and wonders foreign to him that magnetized him to the peninsula.

Erik had several ins with artillery specialists from his navy days that he kept in touch with. He had a pristine system in place. Decommissioned weapons that “fell” off military utility vehicles made their ways to three separate warehouses he owned in Seoul, Busan and Kwangyang. The American was making money hand over fist selling black market arms to the highest bidder. He encountered all types and drowned in Korean pussy to ease his long days.

One auspicious day, Erik got caught fuckin with the wrong pussy, slaying some South Korean big shot’s mistress in his Busan office. How could he not resist? She looked innocent and yet had an endless throat that he couldn’t resist. By the time the goons infiltrated the warehouse, his cum was in her stomach. She turned around and pushed her panties to the side to take all of what Erik had to give, until a bullet whizzed past her.

Erik was able to get some shots off before he got his pants up his legs. But there were too many of them. He had already sent his team home for the night to have some alone time and someone had the jump on him. They swarmed the office with machine guns at the ready. The Korean boss stepped into Erik’s office, stoic and calm. In a last ditch effort, Erik pointed the gun at the mistress, threatening to end it all. “Take another step and you’re gonna be dry cleaning her fucking brain matter off your suit.”

He did Erik the favor of blowing her head off himself. Another two quick shots in Erik’s shoulder made his legs fall out from underneath him. There was a trap door under his desk and he immediately began to crawl to it in agonizing pain. He didn’t make it. The boss stood over Erik, and cracked a smile. Then, from his sleeve he pulled out an impossibly sharp and slender knife, gleaming under the fluorescent lighting.

Quicker than Erik could blink, the knife pierced his stomach seven times. Blood bubbled up his esophagus and coated his teeth instantly. The boss cursed Erik as he bled out and left him to die.

Erik managed to pull himself up against the wall, wheezing a bit harder, holding his side. He started to laugh at his circumstances. He had it coming. If it wasn’t him, it was the next boss whose wife he was fucking or finessed the deal on.

It seemed that at every point of his life, he courted death. It was the only constant thing in his life. So he wasn’t scared. He actually felt a bit of relief. His resignation truly set in when he began to gasp for air, and he could hardly hold his arm up to compress his wound.

The lights began to flicker. The file cabinets in his office rattled. Erik’s ears began to ring and what appeared to be falling through the ceiling looked to be a man. Their forearms and biceps were massive and rippled with muscle. He wore a caftan draped over one of his shoulders unlike any pattern Erik had ever seen. His skin was dark grey, with three vertical slashes along his forehead and golden irises.

(Your lack of discernment has led you here. Your lack of foresight has led you here. I have never seen a man act with such willful disregard for their life. Or others for that matter. In 120 seconds, your body will shut down from the lack of blood. Do you want to live?)

His life was flashed before his eyes immediately like a picture show. Before he dedicated his life to the underworld, Erik was a stand up guy, who had brief walks on the wild side. Erik cared about people. And then his heart was ripped out and he didn’t care to regain it. He cried softly. The being waited patiently until he was done. Their presence comforted Erik. “Maybe I don’t deserve to.”

(I am called Badoru. I have roamed this plane for millennia working to cleanse this planet of all evil that inhibit it. I will save your life. If you serve me, and promise not to lay a hand on anyone who did not harm or threaten you or your charges first.)

“My charges? What do I—“ Erik coughed up more blood and slid further down the wall. Tears of exhaustion flowed from his bloodshot eyes.

(I am a god of many things. Virility, strength, war, and death. I am also the watcher of new life. Any child born on this plane is covered by my protection and any harm is dealt without mercy. Which is how I found you. Erik Stevens, you may have substantial material wealth but you revel in an impoverished mind state. Accept my will and your days shall be long with joy.)

That was five years ago when Erik submitted to the will of his new god. Badoru showed him that Charleston was where his work was needed next. Still able to charm the best of them, Erik was able to get his hands on a heap of military surplus. Badoru blessed him with a business right on the low end of King Street, where the colored folks usually shopped.

At his behest, Erik took those weapons and brought them back to the states. Jim Crow was alive and well. Violence was rampant in segregated Charleston, and he wanted to make sure his community was armed. Erik would sell military surplus by day and sell weapons in the back by night.

“Well that’s just wonderful news. Thank you, thank you!”

This was it. The call that Ursilene told Tilly would come. The grain mill where her father worked on Edisto Island for all them years called to let Tilly know that there was a sizable pension check waiting for her to claim. $50,000. She damn near fainted when they said the number. Tilly had been skeptical these two days that passed but she sure shut up quick after this.

After the check was procured, as soon as she stepped off the boat back to Johns Island, Ursilene summoned her immediately. Tilly was a bit more adept at handling the visceral symptoms now.

(Return to your home at once. I will instruct you further once you promptly arrive.)

Tilly raced home from the docks and situated herself in front of the vanity. Sea foam green smoke blew in from a cracked window and Ursilene sat right next to her on the vanity chaise.

(Did I deliver like I said I would?)

“Yes yes yes Ursilene. I thank you. I thank you so much. I can hardly believe it!” Tilly blabbered like a kid who got the last piece of candy.

(Now, your bakery is in within your grasp. You shall have the finest for your space, I will see to it. Furthermore……I hope you are prepared.)

Tilly stiffened up and shook her head positively like a puppy. She wasn’t sure what to expect. But she made a blood oath that she couldn’t take back; she had to see this through.

One wave of Ursilene’s hand, and the mirror whirled counterclockwise into a viewing bubble of some sort.

(Little Marla. 13 years old. An 8th grader whose parents died tragically and is now living among several other girls at the Jenkins Institute. She loves music and listening to the radio. Her best friend, Sheila, loves to do hair and they practice on each other. They both have taken a liking to biology. Sweet girl.)

Tilly watches the young Black girl smooth out her poodle skirt and straighten up her white socks. The orphanage had a uniform, and Marla liked to look her best. She pulled her sleeve down and hissed at the bruise. The girl only looked for a second more before her friend realized her pain and continued to get ready for class. Tilly’s blood quickened at the very sight of her pain. Who hurt this beautiful child?

Ursilene snapped and what appeared to be a church’s pulpit showed up in the mirror. The pastor—tall, lanky, salt and pepper hair, and ruddy red skin—was named Dunne. Theodore Dunne had been pastor at Second Presbyterian Church for almost seven years now. A devoted husband and father, he dedicated his life to outreach, especially to children.

(Pastor Dunne. He has a ministry at his church specifically tailored to minister for Children’s outreach. They frequent the Jenkins Institute three times a month to bring donations and food drive items raised by the congregation. However, Pastor Dunne has an affliction even his word can’t heal.)

Ursilene flashed several scenes of ghastly scenes of Pastor Dunne inappropriately groping and grasping Marla, her face full of tears. Tilly’s ire grew so. She began to grip the vanity chaise, ripping the cushion from the legs of the chair. When Marla would fight back, he would get violent with her. Her shoulder had been dislocated before.

(Theodore’s day of reckoning is overdue. Hand her justice, Chantilly. Eviscerate him. Remove him from this plane of existence. And restore balance.)

No sooner had she said that, did Tilly have a plan. It’s never too late to gain some religion, right?

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spikybanana · 2 years

Text

@wolfstarmicrofic - prompt: nourished - Persephone/HoTS (yesterday's microfic) part 2 because it's entirely too easy to get me to do something. under the cut because it's sorta long. (and now cheekily on ao3)

“She was the goddess of spring, her spirits nourished the earth.” Peter, duly and begrudgingly cast as narrator #4, droned from centre stage. And as he read flatly from the script, Sirius wandered the side of the stage in a flowing dress and with a flower basket in his hands. “The flowers bloomed for her, the birds sang for her, and as it came to be, the winter winds wailed for her.”

Then, suddenly, Sirius paused in his steps, and turned to look, as though with love-struck wonder, straight at where Remus stood in the shadows. Sirius smiled, and for a moment, Remus’ heartbeat died in his chest before he remembered. It’s the damned script. Fucking hell, he thought, get a hold of yourself.

Peter had continued in the background. “And he— was the King of the shadows. The demure, silent creature who emerged only in the moonlight—”

When Remus’ side of the stage stayed empty, Peter sighed long-sufferingly, before repeating, dragging his words, “he was— the King— of the shadows—”

Oh shit. Only then did Remus remember to run on stage, very much un-demure and un-silent.

Sirius sniggered, and Mary poked her head out of the orchestral pit, halfway through a screaming match with Regulus about the overture arrangement, and shouted, “Remus Lupin! You missed your cue! Again!”

“Alright alright I’m sorry!” Remus said frustratedly, “I was distracted!”

Peter whipped the script down, spun to him, “oh really. Were you now?”

Remus was saved from answering by a loud crash that sounded from above them. Their moon had fallen off its hinges again, and was now hanging entirely by the safety wires from the bars on the ceiling.

“Sorry!” Frank called, running up the ladder, “I’m on it!”

Remus vaguely wondered, for the dozenth time this rehearsal, why in the underworld were they allowed to do any of this; while Mary groaned. “All of you are making me regret my entire life.”

Remus knew it was coming, at some point, but he was surprised nonetheless.

“Act one, scene five, line three hundred and ten…” Mary dropped the script and looked with narrowed eyes between Sirius and Remus, “Now you kiss.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Remus! Haven’t you read the script?”

“Well, I—”

Everyone was watching. Scattered around the stage and lounging in the empty front rows. James, leaning against the cardboard stump of a prop-tree, looked at him with a funny little smile.

Sirius was grinning at him too, and Remus numbly stepped forward towards Sirius’ outstretched hand.

“Oh, come here, sweetheart.” Sirius pulled him in, cradled his face, placed a thumb at the corner of his mouth, before pressing his lips over it.

As quickly as it started, Sirius dropped his hands and stepped back, still grinning, though a little shakily. “Is this okay?”

For long, long seconds, Remus couldn’t chase away the lingering pressure of a soft thumb, soft lips barely on his cheek. “Okay.” he barely voiced, still too stunned. Dammit, it hadn’t even been a real kiss! “Yeah. This is okay. This works.”

Behind Sirius, James had let out a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh, “Come on, Remus, boss—” which he’d taken to call Remus ever since he got dragged in to play Hermes (because Mary had shot down the idea of him playing Sirius’ on-stage mother), “why do you look so scared! At least try to look like you’re into it! You’d think it’s Persephone abducting Hades!”

Remus shot him a scathing look, and deigned not mention how at least James wasn’t playing Zeus. He would have grown five toes in the face of Goddess Lily Evans.

“Actually, you know what?” Mary said, still perched on the stool considering them, “Keep it like this. It’s cute.”

“I mean it’s not like we can’t change it—” Remus began protesting.

“No, no, no. Remus. Listen, we’re going to make sure you act as little as possible, okay? It’s going to be fine.” Mary said, as though convincing herself.

Turns out, it was going to be all fine, but it also wasn’t. Miraculously, the play came together, with its MDF trees and the LED-on-MDF moon, and MDF-on-wheels scene changes. But as for Remus, every scene remained laced with a throbbing kind of yearning, and guilt churned in his chest with every line that was supposedly said to Persephone but really said to Sirius.

Eventually, he just couldn’t keep it all in. On the night of the first show, a mere half hour before the lights were due to go down, Remus felt the air shrink and shrink in the tiny dressing room he shared with Sirius until it popped the secret right out of him. The words spilled out of him in a rush, even as horror was rising in him at the sight of Sirius wordlessly staring at him.

But then, Sirius was stepping swiftly forward, drawing him into an embrace. And Remus had another half second of panicking thinking this has gone horribly wrong, before he felt Sirius’ breathy laughs on his neck, “Me too, Remus. I am ‘stupidly, horrendously infatuated with you’, too.”

Remus’ stomach did something indescribable like it was both soaring and dropping underground. He drew a sharp breath in. Sirius smelt like the perfumed fake flowers he carried in his basket but even that was wonderful. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Sirius laughed softly, drawing back. “since forever, before you ask.”

“But I thought— there was no way you would— me?”

“Well you were the one who always looked so calm and nonchalant about everything, about all of this…”

“Me? Calm? Are you sure? You were the one who acts all chill, twirling around with a basket of wheat—”

“I thought I’ve been so obvious! I thought everyone could see it— I thought you did!”

“I— I just thought you were just such a good actor!”

“I thought you were such a good actor.”

“Okay. So we’re both shit actors.” Remus thought the dressing room definitely needed paddings on the walls, “But it’s fine. It’s working out.”

“Yeah. It is.” Sirius smirked, and leaned in to kiss him right on the mouth.

Just then, Marlene pounded on the door. “Got your mics!” She barged right in, giving the two of them no time at all to spring apart. Marlene took one look at them, blinked, dropped the mics on the table, and dug out her walkie-talkie. “Reporting code Wolfstar, guys. Everyone can calm the fuck down now.”

And from the the other end immediately came James’ very muffled, very excited shouts, “Oh thank the holy underworld fucking finally I mean I would say I told you so but even I was worried they’d not manage it—”

“What is going on?” Sirius with more amusement than confusion. Which Remus deeply admired.

Marlene simply shrugged. “Mics?”

And after that, they hadn’t managed to have a moment by themselves before the curtains rose. But Remus could tell it was different now, when every single glance shared with Sirius was a promise carefully held. The show went on splendidly. All through the first act, Frank’s ambitious lighting plan worked without a hitch. Only once did a microphone die, and only twice did someone forget their lines. But all of them were in their top form. No one stepped on the pomegranate, Remus hadn’t missed a single cue, and even the narrators didn’t sound bored. Remus felt electric, soaring off the crest of the waves of Regulus’ brilliant orchestration with Sirius in tow. At act one’s climax, when they were just about to reach towards each other for the kiss, time froze for a moment and Sirius’ smile curled just the bit differently, painted with a silent dare. Remus’ eyes widened.

And for the first time, instead of waiting for his summon, Remus strode forward in two long steps, held Sirius in his arms, and leaned in. Still clutching a pinch of doubt, he’d placed the kiss at the corner of Sirius’ mouth. But then, Sirius shifted and they were sharing a full-on kiss, fingers-in-hair and everything. The audience went wild, they were soon smiling too much, but their lips lingered on each other’s long after the curtains came down. They had about fifteen minutes before they were due on stage for act two, when Persephone had to be angry and homesick and Hades had to be depressed. But for now, they were SiriusandRemus and they had fifteen minutes.

Mary was on them, with crossed arms and the full MacDonald glare, when they were barely even off the stage. “Don’t you dare do anything during intermission.”

“Yeah okay we promise!” Remus said sheepishly, even as Sirius was already dragging him away.

“Pandora will personally kill you for ruining any of the costumes and I’m telling you,” Mary continued yelling after their retreating backs, “she might not look like much but she can be explosive and I swear to god Remus I’m expecting a letter of thanks and one of apology for psychological damage in the last month!”

Frank came to pat comfortingly on her shoulder. “Actors, am I right?”

Mary huffed. “They never figure out anything. Those idiots.”

“All’s well that ends well, no?”

“Oh, we’ll have to see.”

#wolfstar #microfic #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar not so micro fic #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders au #theatre au #mary macdonald #peter pettigrew #james potter #in which mary regrets some choices #but it all works out!#my writing

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